Red Omen
by liv.einziger
Summary: There is still a mole in the CBI and all evidence indicates that it could be Lisbon and that she could have been lying to her team all along. Now Jane needs to find the truth, but can he do it on his own? Takes place before S3 finale.
1. Not now, not here

_**I am super excited yet super insecure (as usual) about this story, so I count on you to R&R so I can hear what you think of it! Thanks to Madam Spooky for reading it for me beforehand and encouraging me to publish in spite of how uncertain I felt.**_

_**I don't own The Mentalist. :(  
><strong>_

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><p>1. NOT NOW, NOT HERE<p>

_The sound of metal screeching against metal hurt my ears as the guard opened the cell for __me to enter. In there, I could not see much more than shadows; there was a vulture, sitting at what should be the bed. During that millisecond I was glad I could not see much, because I was putting off the moment of the shock, the moment when I would have to look into those eyes again, now that I knew._

_And I was right. As soon as I walked in and it was possible to see through the shadows, and I caught a glimpse of that peculiar shade of green looking back at me, with some weird, contained, different emotion, I swear to God that I felt terribly sick to my stomach – and not many things get me sick to my stomach these days. Yet, there she was, staring back at me. Like a stranger._

_There was something uncommon about the way she looked at me; at first, my impression was that what her challenging eyes meant was that she was not ashamed of her actions. That she did not regret what she had done. But that was not all I could see in them. There was something else; it was, actually, not like she was not ashamed of her actions, but also that she wanted me to know that. Desperately wanted me to know that. She was deliberately glaring at me. And she would glare at me all day, and would not say a word if I did not say something first. As for me, I do not know what my expression was; all I know is that I felt something almost physically stinging in my chest. And I was sick to my stomach._

"_Lisbon," came out of my throat, just a whisper, but hurting its way out and sounding in the silence like a scream. _

_No answer. Just that glare. I believe I glared back then. _

"_I had to come here," I said, suddenly anxious to get out of there and not have to look at those hatred-filled, green eyes anymore. "I had to hear it from you, to hear you say you did it. Otherwise, I won't believe it."_

_For the next thirty seconds or so she remained absolutely immobile, not a change in her challenging, murdering look. Until she suddenly looked down, one of the corners of her mouth moving up in a crooked smile. _

"_How much more proof do you need?" she looked into my eyes again, the smile fading from her features, except for a shade of it that stayed behind to accompany that evil glint in her eyes. _

_I swallowed. _

"_I need you to tell me you did it."_

_She took a few steps towards me and whispered, that piercing scowl shifting from one of my eyes to the other, repeatedly. _

"_I did it."_

* * *

><p>It is a rainy evening, and Teresa Lisbon is looking out the window, observing the raindrops slowly tracing patterns on the car window. She is sitting uncomfortably on the backseat of her team's Chevrolet Suburban. Cho is driving and Van Pelt is sitting next to him; both will occasionally throw disgusted looks at her, next to whom neither had wanted to sit. Like she has some kind of disease. Some disease that allows her to simply look at the raindrops on the outside of the window as though none of her deeds were of any importance. With no regrets. <em>Their boss<em>. How could they have ever known something like this would happen?

Van Pelt's look also has a hint of sadness. Lisbon used to be her idol, after all. Who is she going to worship and look up to now? How is she supposed to still have any faith in people after the only one she would never suspect has turned out to be Red John's mole in the CBI? She looks at her boss once again, sitting there, handcuffed, looking distracted, like nothing much is happening. She contains an urge to cry. And her boss? Well, she shows no emotion. So does that mean that all the emotions she has ever shown before were all fake? That everything she has ever done since Van Pelt first started working with her had been carefully planned and rehearsed beforehand?

The car enters the CBI grounds and a chill goes through Lisbon's spine. Cho and Van Pelt do not notice, but they imagine she must feel _something_ now. After all, she has worked here for many years. At some point she got involved with Red John – and God knows what might have made her do it, but then, if she did it, at all, then that means they really do not know her, so there is no way they can know for sure whether she does feel anything or not. There is no way they can know that she is not really watching any raindrops at all, that what she really is doing is struggling with all her might to keep those stubborn tears from coming out.

* * *

><p>She does not understand what is happening.<p>

In fact, she _does_ understand. She does not… _acknowledge_ what is happening.

She does understand it; she knew this was going to happen sooner or later. This was the natural consequence of her deeds. She just has never really thought about how it would be when it actually happened. How it would _feel_. And she does _not_ feel anything. She is numb. She hears the sirens, sees the lights outside her windows. Blue, red, blue, red, blue, red. She hears steps, then a hard knock on the door.

_Teresa Lisbon, open the door._ _We know you're in there._

It is Kimball Cho's voice.

_CBI, open it up!_

Now Wayne Rigsby's. She can not bring herself to walk towards the door and open it. So she squints… any second now… A bang, and the door is open. They run inside, armed, wearing bulletproof vests – a silly thought comes to mind; where is hers? They point their guns at her. Cho, Rigsby, even Van Pelt. The latter looks at her with a mixture of disappointment and disgust.

Just as much as Teresa Lisbon was not able to open the door, she is not able to run or hide. She just stands there.

_Let me see your hands!_

She does not raise her hands. She does not move. She barely sees or hears anything anymore. She is numb. They get to her, grab her arms, search for guns hidden under her clothes. There is nothing. She hears the words she has spoken so many times before; they are now being said to her.

_Teresa Lisbon, you're under arrest. You have the right to remain silent…_

Her arms are held to her back and her wrists tied by handcuffs.

… _anything you say can and__ will be used against you in a court of law._

Hands pull her, forcing her to walk forward, which she does as though automatically, without really thinking while moving one leg after the other.

_You have the right to an attorney. If you can't afford one, one will be __provided for you by the state._

They are outside, walking through the lights, red, blue, red, blue. They hurt her eyes. A hand pushes her head down, helping her into the Suburban, the same one she has driven to and from crime scenes so many times. The same one she has used to take arrested criminals to the headquarters for questioning. The door closes. Silence. She lets her head fall back against the seat, because it suddenly seems to weigh a hundred pounds. She closes her eyes, to protect them from the lights. Red. Blue. Red. Blue. The front doors open, startling her. Cho takes the driver's seat and Van Pelt sits next to him.

Lisbon closes her eyes again.

* * *

><p><em>As I entered the building where I had worked for so many years, now not as an officer of the law, but as a criminal, I did not feel much at all. Tears were pretty much under control now – I had managed not to cry a single one of them, and I was now concentrating on the task of keeping my face as expressionless as possible. <em>

_Of course it was not easy to enter that building handcuffed, held by both arms, seeing the faces I was used to seeing every day, all looking at me in shock. But it was not as bad as I had imagined when I had considered the possibility of that day happening. I must confess it was even a bit amusing to see; people were not even trying to pretend they were not looking, they all just stood, watching, with their arms folded, their mouths open, whispering to one another about me. Judging. _

_But there was one person's reaction in particular that I wished to see. I wanted to get that over with. He was going to see me, throw a disappointed look at me, maybe come see me in my cell. I could not, actually, predict what he was going to do. I wanted that to happen as soon as possible, so I could stop imagining. Once that was done, the most important part (and the most difficult, I recognize) of my job would have been accomplished._

_Just a little bit longer, I was telling myself._

_But I did not see Patrick Jane on my way to the interrogation rooms. I did not see him at all that day._

* * *

><p>A quiet knock on the door startles J.J. LaRoche. These days, even a quiet knock startles him; one of the bureau's best agents has been found out to be a mole connected to the worst serial killer in the history of the state of California. So that is how he has been living in the last few days – like he has no idea of what comes next.<p>

Fortunately, it is only Patrick Jane.

"J.J.," he says, as though asking for permission, which LaRoche grants him with a wave of his hand.

He is not smiling as usual, though. LaRoche guesses the shock has caught everyone off guard, even the smartass, cold bastard of a consultant who is right now walking towards his desk. He does not know what Jane wants, but he knows what he wishes to hear from him.

"How can I help you, Mr. Jane?"

"I'm here to ask you a favor," he says, as soon as he has taken a seat across from the boss.

"Shoot," LaRoche retorts; no time for runarounds.

"I need you to transfer Lisbon away from here."

LaRoche lets out a sigh.

"She hasn't said anything yet. We need to question her further."

"She's _not_ gonna say anything," Jane replies. "Not now, not here. Besides…" he seems to hesitate, his eyes moving quickly from side to side as if he is looking for a way to say what he wants to say next, until he finally says it. "I can't be in here knowing she's downstairs." He shakes his head quickly, in a sign of huge uncertainty and discomfort. "I just can't."

"And you can't question her either," LaRoche wants to know, finally addressing the subject he actually wants to talk about.

Jane's expression suddenly goes from uncertain and uncomfortable to desperate. He shakes his head again.

"No, I can't. Not now, not here. Here is where we used to interview criminals… together… I can't interview her here."

Jane seems really shaken. It seems the man is capable to feel something, after all, LaRoche thinks. He sighs.

"Okay, Mr. Jane. I'll take care of it. But once she's been transferred, you're going to interrogate her, try to get her talking, is that clear?"

Jane takes in a deep breath.

"Yes, it is."


	2. Like clockwork

_**I would like to thank everyone who has reviewed, favorited and alerted. Thanks to those who told me not to be insecure, but I still am; this is very different from what I usually do, which is also the reason why I'm so excited about it.  
>The next updates will probably not be as fast, though, unfortunately, because my little holiday only lasts until Thursday.<br>**_

_**Thank you Madam Spooky once again! 3**_

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><p>2. LIKE CLOCKWORK<p>

She opens her eyes. Her arm stretches out to silence the alarm clock, even though its going off is not what woke her up. In fact, she has barely even slept at all; mostly, she had been lying in bed with her eyes closed, dreading every minute that passed and drove her closer to the next day. The alarm only makes it official: it is time to get up and do what she has to. She goes to the bathroom and gets into the shower, a cold one, to help her wake up properly. Not from sleep, from… something else.

There is nothing else she can do.

What she can do is take that shower, and dry her hair, and put on her clothes, which she chooses carefully, after taking a good look at the rest of what she has in her wardrobe, and the rest of her belongings, and the rest of her apartment. She does not eat; if she is being honest, she actually feels a little sick. So she just leaves, since there is no use in waiting any longer.

Lisbon is, however, forced to wait longer, to wait a whole morning longer; it looks like any other morning, except that she is the only one who knows it is not. At lunch time, everything will change.

She hears a knock at the open door of her office, and, looking up, she sees Jane. The sight of him makes her nervous, and she fears that he might detect it. As usual, he only wants to brag about how he was right about their latest case and irritate her. Because of everything that is happening, though she finds it very hard to focus on what he is saying.

He notices as much, of course.

"What's going on?" he asks, as soon as he senses it.

"Uh, nothing," she shrugs. "Nothing, really, just a lot of paperwork that I have to deal with, so if you could please leave me at it, I'd be thankful."

He smiles.

"Where's the fun in that?"

She barely demonstrates having heard what he said, and that makes him frown. There is definitely something else wrong with her. It is not just paperwork, or rather, it is not paperwork at all. But he does as she asked and leaves her alone, on his way to get himself some tea and take it with him up to the attic, where he plans to think up a few theories to Lisbon's weird behavior.

* * *

><p><em>I<em>_ made up the best story to cover my nervousness – I said I did not like the fact that we were not telling the rest of the team that there was still a mole in the CBI. I said so because I did not really have a real excuse to call him for lunch, we would usually only have those to share new information. Also, because he had noticed before how nervous and distracted I was. I guessed he would buy it as a good enough reason. _

_And, apparently, he did._

_I opened my notepad and started writing down as we talked. He was paying attention, even though he could not see what I was writing. This was Jane; I knew he was curious enough._

_So I got up and I left that particular page of my notepad, as though I was dismissing it. I walked away, and entered the restaurant. From inside, I could see him taking it, and opening it. That was my cue; I walked out of the restaurant and vanished. _

* * *

><p>"She disappeared," Cho announces to the rest of her team. "She was last seen in a restaurant where she was having lunch with Jane; after that, she just disappeared."<p>

"What about her apartment?" Van Pelt asks.

"We sent a team there, she's not there."

"What about family, maybe she's with one of her brothers?" Rigsby suggests, not at all confident.

Jane is silent, sitting on his couch, not moving, with a lost stare. He has not told the team about the note she left. He cannot tell them what it means. Unless, of course, Lisbon really was, from the start, the person he was not supposed to trust. But he refuses to believe that. What if that was a warning? What if Red John somehow has her and she was trying to tell him something?

Later that afternoon, the team decides to enter her apartment in search for any clues to where she might have gone. Jane joins them, afraid of what they might find in there and the meanings of those findings, but he does not dare to look; he only watches as Rigsby, Cho, Van Pelt and other agents search the place. He walks slowly towards the book case, where a certain collection calls his attention: William Blake's poems. He never knew Lisbon to be a fan of poetry and that would be reason enough for him to find it odd, if that were any other poet, but it is Blake. The author of _The Tyger_.

That is so disturbing that it makes Jane want to leave all of a sudden. He tells Cho that he is going back to the headquarters. As he walks towards his car he does not know what to think. He has two possibilities in mind: that Lisbon is either Red John's captive or Red John's accomplice. And he hates both. Where the hell is she? She has to have been kidnapped or have run away, otherwise, where else would she be? He does hope she will show up or something will be found and prove both theories wrong, but the truth is he cannot escape them; they are screaming inside his mind.

He drives right to the headquarters, wishing he knew something more useful that he could do, but he does not. He goes into Lisbon's empty office, stares at her things, at the couch where he has sat and lay so many times, watching her deal with paperwork. What the hell is going on?

"Where the hell are you and what are you doing?" he asks, as if the walls could answer him.

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><p><em>I was up in the attic when I got a text message<em>_ from Lisbon, asking me to meet her for lunch. We had been doing that, going out to lunch together so we could talk about the thing that only we knew: that there was still a mole in the CBI, and that this person was connected to Red John. And, obviously, that was not something we could talk about in the CBI. So I just put on my suit jacket and left the building to go meet her._

_I thought she might have any news, but she only told me that she had been thinking about telling Rigsby, Cho and Van Pelt. That she hated having such a secret kept from her co-workers, how were we all supposed to work together if we were not sure we could trust one another? I told her once again we only needed to find more about who the mole might be before we told them; what if they were connected to it? How were we supposed to be sure they were not?_

_She did not like it, of course; she was not looking at me. While I was saying this, she was scribbling in her notepad, distractedly. Then, she suddenly tore the page off the notepad, crumpling it in her fist. _

"_I hate all of this," she said, putting the crumpled page down on the table and the notepad back in her pocket. "I need to go to the restroom."_

_She left our table, in the outside part of the restaurant, and I, curious as I am, took the crumpled paper, just to find out what she had been writing. _

_I felt my heart's rhythm instantly change as I read the verses in her handwriting._

Tyger! Tyger! burning bright  
>In the forests of the night,<br>What immortal hand or eye  
>Could frame thy fearful symmetry?<p>

_I stood up and entered the restaurant, almost running. I pretended I was going to the men's room, but when no one was looking, I entered the ladies' room. Empty. She was nowhere else in the restaurant. She knew the message she was leaving me. The only problem was I had _not_ been the one to tell her what it meant. _

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><p>Later that day, Cho, Van Pelt and Rigsby return to the headquarters with not much, but what they have is quite weird. They explain to Jane that they found, among Lisbon's belongings, the contact information of a former CBI employee named John Frederich, one of those who had been in charge of Todd Johnson's security while he had been in the building, and who had, for no known reason, left the job a week after the murder.<p>

"LaRoche says that when he first started his investigation," Rigsby explains, "he managed to bring this guy here and interrogate him, but that he didn't seem at all connected to the whole thing."

"And so didn't Lisbon," Cho adds. "She alibied out because she was the one who went ask you to talk to Johnson, so she couldn't have been down there and done the deed."

"Hey, wait a second," Van Pelt stands up. "Are we suspecting Lisbon?"

Jane just looks at them, stunned, waiting for proof that she is guilty or, preferably, that she is innocent.

"Grace," Rigsby sighs, "show Jane her phone records."

Jane approaches the rookie agent's desk. A bit uncomfortable, she shows him something on her screen.

"We found that she has called Frederich many times during the week of the murder, and especially on the day of the murder, but this doesn't prove anything."

Cho approaches Van Pelt's desk as well.

"How come it doesn't, Van Pelt? Look at this one," he points at a particular call on the screen. "She called him ten minutes before you found Johnson burning. This can't be a coincidence, there's no such thing as coincidences."

There really are not, Jane thinks, following his usual logic, but, in this case, he recognizes no logic can apply. This is Lisbon they are talking about. None of it makes any sense.

"And where is this John Frederich?" he wants to know.

"We sent a team to pick him up. He'll be here soon."

* * *

><p><em>I didn't want to be there during the interrogation, so I just watched it. LaRoche and Cho interrogated John Frederich, a young man with blond hair and green eyes. Everything he said corroborated the very new and suddenly very convenient theory that Lisbon was somehow the one behind Todd Johnson's murder. <em>_And I was really mesmerized by the fact that Cho and Rigsby, especially, had so easily accepted that theory. Van Pelt refused to believe for a while, but after Frederich's statement, she was the newest subscriber. _

_He confessed to murdering Todd Johnson. He confessed to setting him on fire. He identified Lisbon as his contact, as the person who paid him to do it. _

_To me, it all seemed very contrived__, as well-explained and coordinated as it sounded. Where the hell was she? I was sure that she was going to show up at any second and explain herself, or that we would find out that, in reality, Red John had her and all this was just a plan to frame her. And why he would go through all the trouble? Well, probably to try and make some kind of point on how there really was nobody I could trust; clearly, Lisbon was the only person I trusted, my closest friend, and the person I cared most about after losing my family. So I thought it was quite possible that he would want to prove she really was not who I thought she was. Just for the pleasure of watching me lose the last person I still had._

_Maybe he would then give me the means to prove she was innocent, only to kill her and have me find her body._

_I__ shivered at that thought. _

_Maybe I was in denial. Could I ever consider it possible that Lisbon was connected to Red John and that she had murdered Todd Johnson and that she had been lying to me the whole time? __Still, I could not avoid the thought that at least _someone_ should be thinking that she might be innocent and that, at that very moment, while her team was suspecting her, she could be being held hostage by Red John or one of his accomplices. _

_Except that, a few minutes after Frederich's interrogation had ended, the team received a call from the surveillance team saying Lisbon had just entered her apartment building. _

_They exchanged meaningful, horrified looks among one another as they rose from their seats, and I could not help but think: "like clockwork."_


	3. Curiosity

_**I have to say that the season finale **__**made me question if I wanted to continue this story, since now it's almost irrelevant, but I've decided I really want to finish. I guess this fic is now a what-if, for all intents and purposes. :) The finale has also given me a serious writer's block that lasted for several days and only finished today. This one was actually finished already, but I've been keeping from publishing it with fear that I might want to change everything. I guess I have sorted out what I wanted to now, so I'm happy to publish this and I really hope you enjoy it (and let me know if you did or did not). Thanks again Madam Spooky! *heart***_

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><p>3. CURIOSITY<p>

Not all the coffee in the world could be enough for such a busy week as this one. Lisbon pours herself a huge cup, and as she puts the carafe back on its spot in the coffee maker, she hears Jane's irritating grin.

"What?" she asks, not much patience left.

"That much coffee is gonna kill you, that's all," he answers, innocently enough, as he prepares his cup of tea.

"Thanks for the warning," she says without looking at him and halfway gone from the break room.

She needs to get to her office to take care of that huge pile of paperwork waiting for her; not only it was a hard case to crack but it is not finished yet and it is in its most boring stage. Besides, it is all hers to take care of. The downsides of being the boss…

After another long sip of coffee from her mug, she takes her seat behind her desk, preparing herself to get focused on the amount of work ahead of her, but then she notices a piece of paper which wasn't there when she left to get coffee. Maybe it is another of Jane's tricks. She opens it, but the handwriting in there does not look like his.

It is actually a handwriting that she does not recognize.

_12:30PM  
>Dahl <em>_Cafe, N Street_

She frowns, trying to think of who might have decided to invite her to a cafe in the middle of a busy Thursday. Maybe it _is_ Jane, after all. She gets up glancing out from her office's window to the bullpen, trying to see if he is in his couch – which he is not. Maybe he is up in his attic, or maybe he has already left – if the invitation did come from him anyway. But she _has _no time to go to any cafe, especially if it is nothing important. Except it _could_ be something important.

Lisbon suddenly remembers that Jane has recently shared with her a secret he had been keeping to himself; Hightower had been framed, when she was actually innocent, so nobody but her and Jane currently knows that there _is_ still a mole in the CBI, someone who has been passing on information to Red John. Maybe Jane wants to talk to her about something related to that and they – obviously – need to have that conversation somewhere else.

Except it is _not_ Jane's writing.

But he _could_ have faked it. Maybe fearing that somebody found it before her.

But he was in the break room too and he was still there when she left with her mug filled with coffee. Well, he _could _have found somebody else to put it in there, maybe even one of their colleagues, well, it _is_ Jane after all, what can't he do? Besides, maybe his comment about the amount of coffee she was having might have meant to hint at the fact that he was inviting her to a cafe, so she should not drink that much coffee at that particular moment.

She decides to call him up just to confirm, but it goes directly to voicemail. Well… it is her lunch break anyway, and paperwork can wait a little bit _if_ Jane has something important to say. And her stomach has been sending her messages saying it could use something to eat. Okay. She decides to just get up and go. She grabs her keys and leaves her office, the steaming coffee mug left behind.

Arriving at the cafe, though, she takes a look at the outside tables and does not recognize anybody. She goes into the cafe and takes a long look, scrutinizing each person, but coming up with the conclusion that she has never seen any of them before. She frowns again. What the hell is going on?

That is when she feels the touch of a hand on her shoulder. As she turns around, she recognizes the person standing in front of her, even though that is someone she was not at all expecting to see here.

"Director Bertram," she says, unable to hide her surprise.

"Hello, Agent Lisbon. Thank you so much for coming. Let's take a seat, shall we?"

* * *

><p><em>I was sitting at the other side of that <em>_table for the very first time in my life. I realized I had never seen the interrogation room from that angle; I had never really sat facing the glass, seeing my own face reflected in there. Who was behind it, looking into my eyes as well as I was? Was _he_ in there?_

_The door opened and Cho came in, probably doing his best to remain expressionless, but I knew this man, I knew he was feeling something – definitely something not good towards me. And he was struggling to contain and hide it. Successfully, at least so far. He was also avoiding eye contact, but he could only avoid it for so long. After he took his seat across from me, he directed his eyes into mine like he was never going to look elsewhere again. _

* * *

><p>"What would you like to order?" the waitress asks, as soon as Lisbon and Bertram take their seats at a table in the corner.<p>

"We'll call you when we decide," Bertram says, obviously anxious to get rid of the young woman, and Lisbon finds that odd.

She is even kind of disappointed; she feels really hungry right now and she wanted to have at least asked to see the menu. But Bertram looks like he has no time to waste.

"So, Agent, I'm sure you're curious to know why I called you here."

She grins.

"I was actually curious to know who had invited me here in the first place. Your note didn't have your name on it."

Bertram smiles, cocking his head to the side.

"It didn't?"

He asks that as though he had intended to write his name down, but, for some reason, Lisbon gets the impression that he never really meant to do so. Why would she think that? She does not know, but she cannot shrug the thought away either.

"And you had no idea it was me?" he asks, making her frown.

"No, why would I think it was you, sir, who had invited me here?"

He smiles, looking suddenly proud of or contented with something. It is all suddenly very odd. She wonders if she is going to wake up asking herself why in hell she had dreamed about the director asking her to meet him in a cafe. Anyway, she wishes she wakes up after she has already found out what it is he wants to talk to her about outside the CBI; she is way too curious.

"Anyway, what's this about?" she asks, now intending to make it clear she is the one who has no time to waste. She does have a lot of paperwork waiting for her…

"Well," he says, going into business mode, "I called you here because I have something very serious to talk to you about, something I couldn't talk about inside the CBI or anywhere else that couldn't be considered off the record."

She shifts in her seat. Off the record? She just waits for an explanation.

"A few months ago, Agent Hightower was found to be a mole inside the CBI; she was considered guilty of the murder of Todd Johnson, inside our very own headquarters."

Lisbon swallows. She knows Hightower is innocent, but she cannot demonstrate that.

"Yes, sir," she says.

"Well… She's innocent."

Of the numerous statements and considerations that might have followed that, "innocent" is not something Lisbon was expecting to hear. She is so surprised that she hopes he interprets that as her hearing that piece of news for the first time.

"What are you talking about, sir?" she asks.

"What I'm saying is there is still a mole in the CBI. The person responsible for the death of Todd Johnson is still out there, closer than we can imagine."

Okay. That is not really news to her; still, she wants to hear what he suggests they do about it, so she waits, staring at him, now completely oblivious to her stomach's pleas for food. Bertram leans his forearms on the table so that he can approach her a little.

"But then, you already knew that… didn't you?"

Lisbon feels like all the blood from her body has suddenly come up to her face.

* * *

><p>"<em>Who's Red John?" Cho asked, like he was asking the simplest, most ordinary question in the world. <em>

_I didn't answer. I__ had not said a word since they had come pick me up at home. I had not used my voice in so long that speaking almost seemed like a foreign task; it was easier to keep my mouth shut. Especially because that was _not_ the simplest, most ordinary question in the world. _

"_When did you get in contact with him last?"_

_I had never seen Cho so uncertain in an interrogation room before. It was probably very difficult for him to be sitting across from me in there, instead of next to me. I was his boss; it could not be easy to interrogate me._

"_We need names. Everyone you know who's a part of Red John's organization."_

_He was now just throwing questions, he really had no hope that I would answer any of them. Then something completely unexpected happened: he let go of his stoic, cop-like façade, like I had never seen before, and I could clearly see the hurt and disappointment in his eyes._

"_Lisbon… For the sake of all the years we've been working together as a team. Give us something so we can ask for life in prison."_

_He could be trying to make me afraid of death penalty, but I could see he did not want that to happen either. I wanted to cry at the sight of his concern, but a shiver of panic came up my spine as I contemplated the possibility of actually being sentenced to death. I looked away, embracing my own arms, and did not even notice when he left. _

* * *

><p>"Sir… I don't understand," Lisbon says, all too aware of the blush in her cheeks, to which the name blush was an understatement.<p>

He smiles.

"I think you do. You and our beloved consultant, Mr. Jane. I'm even positive that he's helped Hightower escape, knowing she was innocent."

Lisbon sighs, just waiting for whatever the director is about to say. He is probably going to lecture her on how she should have told her superiors and so on. But he surprises her yet again.

"Well, Agent, I'm happy to satisfy your curiosity, even though I cannot do the same for Mr. Jane for the moment. I am the mole."


	4. For a Minute

4. FOR A MINUTE

_Six days of angst had gone by when I __was woken up that morning. _

_Angst, because I wanted to have seen Jane. I wanted to have seen him, because I knew facing him would be the hardest part, but he had not been there in my holding cell one single time. Maybe he hated me too much to even look at me once again. Maybe knowing he had trusted the last person he should have had been too much for him. I wondered how he was, and worry pierced through my chest like a sharp knife._

_Anyway, that morning I had the impression I was woken up much earlier than usual; it turns out they wanted to transfer me. They took me, handcuffed, to a van, and drove me to a penitentiary. I did not even see which well because there were no windows in the rear part of the van, where I was, alone. I was thinking to myself… a penitentiary. They are taking me to a penitentiary._

_I was glad they did not chop my hair off – even as an officer of the law, I was not at all familiar with whether that was part of the procedure of admission or not, and I feared the possibility, ridiculous as it may sound. They did have me remove all my clothes and kept all personal objects – basically my necklace. They gave me an orange uniform, just like the ones real inmates had to wear._

_Real inmates. What part of that was not real? _

* * *

><p>If Lisbon were eating or drinking anything, she might have gagged. In fact, even with nothing to help, she almost does. That must be the reason why Bertram did not want to order anything. She stares at him, her expression blank, in fact, her face looks a bit paler.<p>

"Are you all right, Agent?" Bertram asks casually.

Lisbon cannot find her voice and, worse still, she cannot find an answer, as though she has not even understood the question. Bertram calls the waitress with a wave of his hand and she promptly stands next to their table.

"Would you mind bringing some water for the lady?"

"No sir, not at all," she swiftly turns around and disappears.

This is when Lisbon stands up in a flash.

"I'm not drinking any water, I'm not…" she intended to continue that, but the suddenness of her movement and her state of shock make her dizzy, so much that she has to lean on the table for balance.

Bertram just sits there, watching her.

"Be strong, agent, because I'm not done. Wait for your water, you're gonna need it."

* * *

><p>"<em>I had never thought I woul<em>_d ever be locked in a cell in a penitentiary" may sound very cliché, but I really had never considered that as a possibility. I was, however, whishing I had not only considered but chosen that option instead of having been a cop first. Or at least that the other inmates did not know that I had been one. But they knew. And I was bullied every single day for it. _

_Thankfully, I was alone in my cell, but at the times when I had to be in a larger group, I would hear insults, have stuff thrown at me and even my food would be spat at. _

_On the third day, when we were outside for sunlight, a group approached me, and I recognized the leader, even though I could not remember where I knew her from. She soon made that clear, though._

"_What are you doing here, pig?" she asked._

_I did not answer._

_Neither did she say another word. She just hit me so hard on the mouth that my sight went black and I fell to the floor._

"_This is payback for sending me here," she said._

_Already able to see, I looked up at her and remembered; she was the murderer in a case we had investigated about two years before that. She and her friends left me there, on the floor, and I stayed there, feeling sick at the taste of my own blood. _

_That made me realize how sick I was of that whole crap. _

_And, of course, no word from Bertram yet._

* * *

><p>"I wanted to tell you about my latest assignment," Bertram informs, looking directly into Lisbon's glaring eyes.<p>

"What assignment, you son of a bitch? You know you're not getting out of this cafe alone, don't you? I'm gonna arrest you."

"Hold your horses, Agent," he looks extremely calm, as opposed to his interlocutor. "So, my current assignment is to frame you as Red John's mole in the CBI."

"Why?" she asks between clenched teeth. "Hightower's already been framed."

"Yes, but Jane didn't buy it," is his matter-of-fact explanation.

Lisbon shifts in her chair.

"What makes you think he's gonna buy it if you frame me?"

"Because you're gonna help me and make him buy it."

Lisbon squints at his certainty.

"Why would I do that?"

"To catch Red John, of course."

* * *

><p>As soon as Lisbon arrives home, she goes straight to her bedroom, kicks off her shoes and lies down on her bed. After her conversation with Bertram, she called LaRoche and Cho to tell them she was not feeling okay and had to go home for the rest of the day. That was, in part, true; after all, how could she be feeling normal? But the reason why she really decided to go home is that she has to make a decision, and a very important one.<p>

The plan is simple: they would frame her, she would be arrested and go to prison. Everyone had to buy it, including her team and, especially, Jane. Once Red John was convinced Jane believed Lisbon to be guilty, they would be one step ahead in catching him, especially if Bertram has the serial killer's trust. Then he would team up with Jane and the unit, tell them about the operation and, after Red John had been brought to justice, she would be exonerated.

"What about Red John?" she asked Bertram while they were still at the cafe. "What are you gonna tell him to explain why I'm volunteering to help if the reason is to try and catch him?"

"It was actually his idea," Bertram said, taking an envelope from inside his jacket's pocket. "But I was supposed to persuade you in a different way."

He offered her the envelope, and she took it. Inside, there were pictures of her brother, Tommy, taken without him noticing. By the different clothes he was wearing, she could tell they were from several different days.

Those pictures still trouble her mind now.

Because, intending to catch Red John or not, the threat still stands. Red John does have a man watching Tommy's every move and, just as easily as the guy had been able to take those pictures, he could take a shot at him. Which puts her in a position in which she is not able to refuse the assignment either way.

But then, Lisbon cannot be sure she trusts Bertram. He says he is Red John's mole, but that he is still on the side of the good guys and that he only accepted that position when it was offered to him because he hoped that might help catch the killer; but how is she supposed to know that for sure? Because, even if he started out with good intentions, what if he was brainwashed by the murderer like all his other accomplices?

The fact that he told her he is going to frame her and that she could use it to her advantage attests to his good intentions in that he could have just shown her Tommy's pictures and threatened her. However, he could also be pretending to be on her side just to maintain her trust and make her believe he has her back so she does not try to circumvent the plan somehow. It is brilliant, she thinks. So how is she supposed to decide whether to trust him or not now? And she cannot even tell anybody about any of this. If only she could tell Jane.

Tommy's pictures appear once again in her mind. Well, her decision is as good as made.

* * *

><p><em>On the fourth day, a guard approached my cell <em>_bringing a visitor, and when I saw the silhouette, I knew instantly. Jane. My heart ached; I did not want to see the way he was going to look at me. I had prepared so much for the moment I would face him when I was still being held at the CBI, why did he have to show up when I was unprepared? Well, when did he ever do anything when I was prepared for it? But I had to be. I had to be ready, no matter what. I just sat there in my bed, doing everything I could to show no emotion as he slowly approached me. Then I saw his eyes. They were cautious, anxious, analyzing me. For the first time since I had met the son of a bitch, he looked like he did not know exactly what to do or how to act. And that just broke my heart. _

_But he could not see that._

_So I focused on glaring at him; glaring at him as though I hated him, as though he was the one responsible for all the misery in my life and in the lives of the people I cared about. I focused all my energy on that, even the tears I wanted to cry. _

"_Lisbon," he said, just a whisper, causing a chill to go up my spine. _

_I said nothing. From uncertainty, he went to tentatively glaring back at me. Like he was not sure yet whether he was supposed to hate me or not. I wanted to tell him he was._

"_I had to come here," __he said, serious as I had only seen him a few times before that. "I had to hear it from you, to hear you say you did it. Otherwise, I won't believe it."_

_I did not move. I had to put all my effort into that reply. I looked down, and faked a smile._

"_How much more proof do you need?" __I asked, then looked up at him again, focusing on scowling at him with as much hatred as I could fake. _

_He did not seem convinced. _

"_I need you to tell me you did it," he insisted._

_It was torture. But I had to go through with it. I stood up, and approached him slowly, looking deep into his eyes, alternating my focus between either of them._

* * *

><p>"I did it," Lisbon says, glaring at him still.<p>

Jane watches her, in silence, for a long while, his eyes carefully measuring her features. Then he sighs loudly, with a small smile.

"For a minute there, Lisbon…" he whispers, shaking his head. "For a minute there!"

She maintains her glare, but not as sure of it as before. He takes a few steps towards her, causing her to take a few steps back, hesitantly.

"What?" she asks, confused.

She reaches the bed, so she has no choice but to stop taking steps back. She faces him questioningly.

"I knew you hadn't done it," he says, visibly relieved.

_He has made me_, is Lisbon's first thought. She had known that it was very likely that this was going to happen, especially because he has shown up unexpectedly, but she never really had a plan in case he caught her in the lie, neither does she have one now, tired as she is of the assignment.

"W-what the hell are you talking about?" she asks, as if to make him give her some time, even if she does not know what to do with it.

"No point in lying to me any further. There are no cameras here, I made sure of that. The only cameras are in the hallways and they can't film us in here. There are no microphones either, I checked. I can be very thorough."

Lisbon cannot help but smile at that.

"Yes you can," she says, without thinking, noticing how much she has missed him, flaws and all, during the last few days.

He smiles widely as well, realizing she has given up pretending, and does not resist the impulse of taking her in his arms in an affectionate hug. He has missed her, only now does he know how much. She is his only friend, after all. Of course there is the team, but it has always been her. She is the only reason that makes him smile from the heart in his current existence.

"But why?" he asks, "Why all this?" He suddenly realizes he has never wanted an explanation for something this badly.

That is when Jane realizes that Lisbon has started sobbing into his shoulder. It is the first time she lets go of it all and lets herself really break down with all that she has been through. He tightens his grip around her and lets her cry as he runs his hand through her hair. Is this really happening? The real Lisbon is back after such long days doubting everything he knew?

When she seems to calm down a little bit, he pulls away only enough to see her face, and tilts her head up with a finger to her chin. She faces him without a trace of that hatred. Actually, he thinks there is apology in her eyes right now.

"You're hurt," he says, touching her cheek as he notices the cut on her lip and a slight swelling.

She tilts her head down quickly.

"It's nothing."

"Always tough," he comments, smiling and shaking his head. "Thank you," he says.

"What for?" she asks, confused, looking at him again.

"For being innocent. Because I have a plan. If you weren't… Well then I wouldn't have a plan. At all."

* * *

><p><strong><em>Thank you to everyone who has reviewed, alerted and favorited so far, especially the ones I couldn't reply to individually. Also, a special thank you to Madam Spooky, as always!<em>**  
><em><strong>I hope you guys have enjoyed this chapter and will let me know what you think! :D<strong>_


	5. High

5. HIGH

_I was at a convenience store, waiting around as my dad filled __the basket with beer. My brothers were behind me, as though protecting themselves, and, for a minute, I felt tired. I felt sick of having to be the strong one, to be the fortress around them. I looked outside and saw a group of girls about fourteen, fifteen years old; a bunch of girls my age, who had a normal life and were walking together around town, not having three brothers to look after and protect from a broken, alcoholic, abusive father. I sighed loudly and turned to my brothers._

"_Stay here," I commanded, and left their side. _

_Dad was at the other end of the store, and I was walking with my hands behind my back, looking around me, thinking about how he never offered us anything, not a chocolate, not a doughnut. He just bought his beer and took us straight home. I wondered what it would be like to change everything, to break free from the pain and the suffering, to do something different, something I was not supposed to do. I looked at a chocolate, and imagined myself hiding it in my pocket._

_Could I pull it off__? Could I ever do something like this? The fact that it was wrong and I was seriously considering it had me shaking really hard. I was not capable. I could not do it._

_But then… if I just took it, it would mean I was. And, for some reason, I wanted to be capable of doing something like that. I wanted to be capable of doing something I was not supposed to do if I had to._

_So I took it. I just took it from the shelf and slipped it into my pocket. I looked around me. Nobody had seen it._

_I breathed again. And contained a smile. I wanted to jump. My heart was racing. I had really enjoyed myself! I went back to where my brothers were and stood in front of them again, just in time for my dad to reach the cash register, pay for his beer and tell us it was time to go.  
><em>

* * *

><p>"Put down your guns or I will shoot him," Lisbon announces, slowly. "Wait for us to get in the car and let us drive away or I'll blow his head off."<p>

"Please, guys, do as she says," Jane pleads, with a scared voice.

She sees clearly as her team members – or rather, her former team members – look at her with disappointment and incredulity. They do obey her, though, and lower their weapons, commanding the other officers to do the same, and wait as she and Jane get into his Citroën, with her pointing her gun at him the whole time. Jane starts the car, maneuvers it quickly, then drives off, leaving the CBI and Sacramento PD cars behind. Both of them sigh at the same time, and Lisbon lowers her gun, relaxing a little on the passenger seat.

"We can't use my car for much longer," Jane points out.

"I know," she replies dryly. "If you only had a less _distinct_ car…"

"Oh, come on," Jane retorts, smiling. "We've just managed to get you out of prison. Out of prison! That's huge even for me!"

To Jane's surprise, she smiles widely, taking deep breaths.

"What a high!" she comments, more to herself than to him, making him smile nonetheless.

* * *

><p><em>I refused to believe all the evidence being presented to me. <em>

_When I realized that the team was arriving, bringing _her_ in, I hid, because I did not want to see that. For one thing, I did not want to see her going through that, walking handcuffed like a criminal along those hallways where she used to walk like the great and respected cop that she was, like the boss of a very important unit in the bureau. The other reason was I knew that, the moment I looked into her eyes and she looked back into mine, I would know if she was guilty or not._

_And I just could not do that at that moment. For once in my life, I preferred not knowing for a while longer. I did watch her as Cho tried to interrogate her, and she just sat there like a cat had eaten her tongue. She let no emotion show in her expression. That was so unlike her; her emotions were usually so clear, she was usually so translucent. That night, she was opaque._

_The next day, she refused to say or show anything again. And of course, I was asked to interrogate her. I could not. I just could not. I hid in the attic and later on I even left the building. I could not deal with that. Lisbon, the person I trusted and cared about most, was either guilty of murder and Red John's mole in the CBI or was being unfairly treated as much. I wished that it could be the second option, and that there was something that I could do to prove her innocence. _

_So I went to her apartment, and I searched through everything. I even found out many things about her that would have made me smile in a different situation. I saw pictures of her and her brothers as children. Then, at a certain point, the pictures stopped. Probably when her mother died. I saw the books she had used in college, even a few notebooks, her handwriting, her thoughts, her brain poured into lines. That was the Lisbon I knew. She could not own those Blake books, she could not be Red John's mole._

_She could not. _

* * *

><p>"I knew something was off about Bertram," Jane says, as soon as Lisbon finishes explaining everything.<p>

"So you think he's really playing me?" Lisbon wants to know, looking at him apprehensively as he sits relaxed on the passenger seat.

"That's not what I said," Jane defends himself. "How am I supposed to know?"

"Well I thought you knew everything," Lisbon retorts, sarcastically.

"Well I'm not a psychic. But we'll figure this out," he promises, looking at her, suddenly very serious and determined, making her frown with surprise.

"Don't tell me you have a plan for that too."

"Not yet," he smiles. "But I'll have one. Very soon."

Lisbon just watches him, looking for a sign of hesitation or of uncertainty in his resolve. She finds none. She looks at the road again. It is almost midnight and they have been driving for a long time. Jane's car had been discarded along with the penitentiary uniform and they had turned around in the opposite direction to mislead the police. It has worked so far. They are now in a rental car and arriving at the city of Roseville. Lisbon yawns and Jane decides to tell her it is time to stop for the night.

"Don't be silly," she says. "We're not far enough from Sacramento yet."

"But you're almost falling asleep."

"I'm not."

"But you could use some coffee."

She hesitates.

"Maybe."

"There, you admit you're tired."

"Of course I'm tired."

"But you know what? Coffee will only be effective for a while. After it's over you'll be falling asleep worse than before."

"What about you? Can't you drive while I sleep?"

"If I were sure I wasn't going to fall asleep I would've offered already. But the thing is I stayed up all night last night, didn't sleep for a minute."

Lisbon looks at him, instantly worried.

"What were you doing?"

"Searching your apartment, of course," he says, surprised that she did not guess.

"Of course," she repeats, grinning and shaking her head.

* * *

><p><em>Everything happened so fast. <em>

_We did not have much time left, soon the guard would show up and announce the visit was over. Jane explained his plan in not much detail, and I had to make a quick decision on whether to do it or not. I asked him if he had heard anything coming from Bertram concerning catching Red John, any operations being planned. Nothing. Maybe Bertram was just giving it time, but he had promised he would find a way to communicate with me, keep me updated. But he had left me in the dark so far. So I decided it was time to leave _him_ in the dark too. Okay, Red John had my brother at gunpoint. But not for very long. And Bertram could always say my escape from prison was part of the plan._

_One way or another, he would have to deal with it._

_I had never imagined myself escaping a prison; well, neither had I ever imagined being in a penitentiary in the first place. For Jane, however, no stunt was too big and he had it all figured out. I just had to go about my business as usual and, when the time came to have dinner at the canteen with everyone, I just had to fake some kind of attack – a heart attack, or a stroke, or something. Apparently, Jane knew the specifics of acting any of them. Then, when I was taken to the infirmary, he would – Lord knows how – be disguised as a nurse and take it from there. _

_I just saw the two of us being caught. I imagined dozens of scenarios and moments in which our cover would be blown and we would be both arrested, but when I realized, we were getting out. If anybody asked me the details of how, I would not be able to explain. It happened so fast and it was so surreal and adrenaline was making my heart beat so fast that those moments fused into a blur in my mind._

_I remember more clearly from the moment when we reached Jane's car on. It was hidden, I did not recognize where; the surroundings did not tell me much, but we were not near the penitentiary anymore and there was nobody around. He opened the trunk and I recognized a suitcase that belonged to me alongside another suitcase, probably his. He opened mine and took a gun out from it. A glock, that used to be hidden very well in my apartment._

"_How did you get this?" I asked, shocked, imagining it must have been found and apprehended by the CBI._

"_It was still in your apartment," he said as though reading my mind while he changed out of his disguise. "I guess it was not as thoroughly searched as we assumed."_

_But he had found it. Of course. And he had brought me clothes. It just made me smile. He was _that_ confident that I was innocent, and it suddenly made me want to give him a hug. But then a scenario I had _not_ imagined formed around us._

"_Teresa Lisbon, stop right there!"_

_Instinctively, I held Jane with one hand and pointed the gun at his head._

"_Don't move," I said, "or he dies."_

"_Oh thank God," Jane said. "I was just passing through and she made me stop the car. How the hell did you let her escape? She's going to kill me!"_

"_Don't worry, sir," the officer said, " we'll sort this out."_

_It was one cop initially, then about twenty. Then, five minutes later or so, the CBI arrived. Cho, Rigsby, Van Pelt. Almost thirty people pointing their guns at me. And I asked myself, can I pull this off? _

* * *

><p>"I hope he hasn't taken a very good look at our faces," Lisbon says, as soon as she is alone with Jane in their motel room. "We'll probably be on TV first thing in the morning."<p>

She lets herself fall sitting on top of the bed, sighing and looking down. Jane approaches slowly and sits next to her.

"This won't last for much longer," he reassures her. "Soon you'll be able to tell everyone you're innocent."

Lisbon looks up at him, staring at him for a long time, in silence. Then she finally speaks.

"Thank you."

The intensity of her acknowledgement takes Jane off guard, and he smiles embarrassedly. Before he has any time to reply, though, she speaks again.

"Why are you doing this?"

"What do you mean?" he asks, as if to gain some time to think of an answer.

"I mean what I said."

Jane is still smiling embarrassedly, but then he takes on a serious tone to finally respond to her question.

"I guess the short answer is you're my friend."

There is another moment of heavy silence as they stare at each other. Then Lisbon speaks.

"Jane, I need to go to Chicago. I need to make sure Tommy's okay. But I want you to know how thankful I am for your help so far and that you can jump ship at any moment."

"I won't do that," he assures her, and something in his expression suddenly rings a bell.

"Oh, I see," she thinks aloud. "Red John."

Jane shrugs.

"There's that, of course, but, I mean… You need me," he states, smugly but with a hint of seriousness. "What would you do without me?"


	6. Clear shot

_**I'm still super excited about this fic, though now time has been an issue because of tests and articles I need to write during the course of this month but, ironically as it is, it is at the busiest times that my muse whispers the best ideas into my ears, and a chapter gets written anyway. I hope you guys enjoy reading as much as I enjoyed writing and that you will let me know what you thought of this chapter! **_

* * *

><p>6. CLEAR SHOT<p>

Since Lisbon had escaped prison taking Jane hostage, Cho, Rigsby and Van Pelt had been counting on the fact that Jane would find a way to escape or to lead them to their location, which is part of why the three of them had let them go. But then, as the days passed, they started to doubt their initial assumption.

"What if… what if she's killed him?" Rigsby suggested, hesitantly.

"She wouldn't do that," was Van Pelt's reflex of an answer, but she soon reminded herself she did not really know Lisbon, so she did not really know what she was or was not capable of.

Cho is the one who came up with a very plausible explanation.

"What if he's sticking with her because he wants her to lead him to Red John?" he said to his team mates.

"He could be crazy like that," Rigsby pointed out.

"It's the only explanation that makes sense," Cho argued. "Otherwise he would've found a way to let us know where they are and where they're going. By keeping us in the dark, he gets a chance to get to Red John alone and have him all to himself."

"We need to stop him," said Van Pelt.

And since that day, the CBI has been working with the possibility that Jane might not want to escape captivity, even though they decided not to release that information to the police all over the state looking for them. They like to think that they have an advantage, because now they know they have to find and stop both Jane and Lisbon, and they know that the two of them used to be the strongest assets in the team, so they are aware of the difficult task at hand.

* * *

><p><em>That night was... awkward.<em>

_Jane and I__ talked for a while, but the point of stopping there was to sleep so... The time came when we had to do that. Jane had gone for the married couple cover, so we were in a room with just a double bed. When we were supposed to decide who would sleep where, Jane played the role of the gentleman. _

"_Don't worry, you can take the bed and I'll take the floor."_

"_Don't be silly," I retorted. "I can take the floor too."_

"_I'm serious, Lisbon. I'm not even sure I'll fall asleep at all."_

"_And you think I will? I'll be listening for every single sound, wondering if it's the police and if they're gonna break into the room."_

_Then he shrugged, with a smug__ smile on his face._

"_Let's both take the bed, then. If we'll be lying awake…" _

_I do not recall what my expression was, but it made him look even more teasingly at me._

"_Why not?" he provoked. "Don't think you can resist me?"_

"_Bite me," I commanded. "I was just gonna suggest the same thing. After all, what's the matter, right? The bed is big enough for the both of us to lie comfortably without… _interfering_ with each other."_

_He smiled widely then, repeating a word I had just said. _

"_Interfering."_

"_All right," I said, starting to look inside my bag for something I could sleep in. "So that's settled."_

_I was surprised to find my favorite jersey in there. Still sitting on the bed, just observing, Jane chuckled lightly._

"_Why, you didn't think I would I forget your… _distinct_ pajamas, did you? I like them."_

_I mocked him pretending to laugh irritably and took the jersey with me on my way to the bathroom._

"_I brought your toothbrush, too, in case you want to…" he warned, making me turn around._

"_You're kidding, right?"_

_I fumbled through the bag and found my toothbrush carefully packaged inside a plastic bag. For some reason, I was moved by how he had spent his time wondering about what I might need and packing a bag with my stuff, and it had me involuntarily thinking about how lucky his wife must have been. Sort of speechless and completely embarrassed, as I saw, from the corner of my eye, that he was amused, observing my confusion, I almost ran to the bathroom for cover. _

_When I came back, he was already in his own pajamas. So he really had thought this through. He had decided to get me out of jail and run away with me. That sort of touched me at the same time that it also irritated me a little. Who was he to decide what I was going to do anyway? But the touched side won the battle, and I felt really grateful that he had never doubted my integrity and that he had come up with all this plan to get me out of jail. _

_After those thoughts, I acknowledged the present awkwardness; we were both in our pajamas and we had to go to the same bed. Not many times had I seen Jane embarrassed, but, that night, I swear I saw him blush a little when we silently walked towards the bed. He also used a silly, almost shy tone when he asked which side I preferred. I just chose one to get that over with and lay there, quickly hiding under the covers with my back turned to his side. I heard him lie down on the remaining side and get under the covers as well and it was very, very weird to know that we were sharing the same covers. The same bed. Still as awkward as ever, he said good night and I replied, turning off the lamp._

_Maybe I should have taken the floor. _

* * *

><p>And they are on the road again. Lisbon has practically lost count on how many days have gone by since she has escaped prison with Jane; their days are spent driving, with the occasional stop for changing cars or buying food or bathing and sleeping. They would have arrived in Chicago by now if they had not needed to make several detours to mislead anybody who might be following their tracks, as well as avoid the main roads. Lisbon has to admit that she is impressed by Jane's knowledge of otherwise unknown roads, which he explains as a consequence of growing up with carnies. Their pictures really have been released to the media so they have also got disguises at some point. Something that works to their advantage is the fact that the CBI and the police are looking for a kidnapper and her hostage, while they are wearing wigs and different clothes and pretending to be a married couple.<p>

"You look good blonde," Jane comments when they are sitting at a diner having lunch.

It is a really sunny, hot day and Lisbon is irritated with the heat and all the driving and, of course, the wig, so she replies rather dryly to his remark.

"Thanks, you look horrible dark-haired."

"Thank you," he answers, smiling.

That irritates her as well.

"What is so funny? How come you're smiling all the time? Look at our situation."

Jane simply shrugs.

"I just gave you a compliment. Even though I do prefer your original hair color."

She looks up at him, letting her fork fall noisily against the plate. She throws him one of her awfully annoyed looks.

"Seriously, Lisbon," he continues, "I think it's all going to be okay. I get it, you're worried about your brother, but I don't think anything's going to happen to him. And soon we won't be doing this anymore and you'll be free again. And I'm only telling you this because I believe it."

She sighs, wishing he is right. But then, she notices he is looking up at something behind her.

"Don't turn around," he warns her.

"What is it?"

"Police officers."

She moves nervously in her seat, trying to figure out what to do.

"Don't worry," Jane says. "They're probably here for coffee and doughnuts."

Lisbon takes a deep breath, trying to calm down. But she hears steps approaching, and she notices Jane's apprehensive expression.

"They've made us," he announces.

* * *

><p><em>We had never discussed our sleeping arrangements again. As awkward as sleeping on the same bed might be, talking about why it was awkward might have been even worse. And, after a <em>_few days, I must confess, we had grown used to it. At least _I_ had. _

_Lisbon was a quiet sleeper. She was so silent that I would sometimes turn to check on her, make sure she was breathing. At those times, I would often feel an urge to continue observing her, because she slept so peacefully, with such a serene expression, her hair scattered all over the pillow, looking so relaxed. I would watch her and envy her and wish I could somehow participate in that calm and in that peace. I had to fight this urge, because when I turned back around, facing away from her, I would feel frustrated for reasons I could not or did not want to explain to myself. _

_Our routine would be considered boring by most people, especially all the driving, but I must say I was enjoying it. __I did not usually have the opportunity of doing many different things, so the novelty of it distracted me. Besides, I had always enjoyed Lisbon's company. If it were anybody else, the forced proximity might have made me extremely irritated, but I did not mind spending very long amounts of time with her, I never had. _

_A__t a certain time on the second day, when I was the one driving, and she had fallen into a quiet sleep next to me, I started thinking about how everything had happened. I had never really believed that she was guilty, even though I was really scared of the possibility that she might be. That night, going through her belongings in her apartment – and I searched every inch of it – I felt something good, something that told me she was innocent, and that she needed my help; she was being framed, I was sure. I just did not know why she was pretending to be guilty as well. _

_When we were finally out of there, and I could finally hear the explanation for everything, I had to admit that such a thing had not gone through my mind as I had imagined what might have been happening. However, Red John's plan made all the sense in the world. He wanted to destroy me once again. He knew how much I trusted her and he wanted me to think I could not trust her, could not trust no one. That I had been betrayed by the last person I had ever considered capable of betraying me. _

_And, honestly, I did not know what to think of Bertram's role in all this. I would have to look him in the eye to have a better idea, but that was not an option at the moment, since we were moving away from California each day, and he was supposed to be looking for us. _

_I was worried, but I could not let Lisbon realize as much. She was worried enough already. __My role was to stay strong beside her, help her keep focused on the task at hand. She rarely saw me fragile and vulnerable, and if she saw me like that she might crumble. It was my duty as her friend not to let that happen. _

_And, when we got to Chicago, we would not only make sure her brother was okay, but I also hoped to find Red John's man in there and have him tell me something I could use. Something that could get me closer to finding him. _

* * *

><p>In less than a second, Lisbon and Jane are standing and she is pointing a gun at him.<p>

"Nobody move," Lisbon orders.

The two officers point their guns at her, and the whole diner is in panic, screaming and moving around.

"I said nobody move!" she yells.

As everything slowly falls quiet, she lowers her tone of voice.

"Put down your guns and let me get out of here."

"Release your hostage, then," one of the officers replies.

"No way," she retorts. "Put down your guns and let me leave. He comes with me."

Right about now, Lisbon is telling herself that it would not be so bad to release Jane. After all, she is worried about him being in danger to help her. Of course, he does have his own agenda and is in it mostly because of Red John, but that is all the more reason for her to worry about having him around later, when she arrives in Chicago. However, that is _not _an option. If she releases him, what is going to keep the officers from shooting and arresting her? She realizes she is thinking like a criminal. She has to.

"Okay," the officer says, after a few moments of staring at her and being stared at by her as well. "As long as nobody is hurt, you can go."

She knows it is not that simple, and so does Jane, but she nods and they start moving towards the exit, very slowly as she pays attention to the officers to make sure they will not try anything. When they reach the door, she lets go of Jane, still keeping him at gunpoint.

"Stay right where you are," she tells the officers. "Open the door and hold it open for me," she orders to Jane, and he does as told, keeping his hands up and doing a very good job at looking scared.

In fact, he _is_ scared, thinking that this could go wrong at any second. Very wrong. Also, he does not enjoy having a gun pointed at his head, even if he knows that Lisbon is not going to shoot him. He opens the door and holds it open for her as she passes through it, slowly and very carefully.

"Run to the car," she commands as soon as they are out, still pointing the gun at him.

That is when three police cars arrive, with more police officers coming out from them and starting to shoot towards them as they run. It takes a moment for Jane to realize they are being shot at. He glances over his shoulder and sees an officer who has a clear shot at Lisbon's head. He slows down to stay behind her, in a desperate attempt to do something.

The officer's gun goes off.


	7. Peace

7. PEACE

He can hear the phone ringing from outside his office as he approaches. He opens the door, enters, locks it behind himself, and walks calmly towards his desk. He puts his suitcase on top of it, then slowly takes his seat. Then, after sighing loudly, he reaches for the phone and picks it up.

"Hello."

"Bertram," says a woman's panty voice on the other end.

"Where the hell are you?" he exclaims. "What the hell are you doing?"

"I'm still doing what you told me to do."

"I don't remember telling you to run away."

"But I remember that you told me you'd contact me in prison with further instructions. Something tells me if I were still there I still wouldn't have heard from you."

"You have to understand my position."

"That's not why I ran away, though," she explains, taking a deep breath.

"Why did you do it, then?"

"It was the only way Jane would believe it. I had to point a gun at him and take him hostage, or he would keep trying to prove I was innocent."

Bertram sighs.

"I knew it was gonna be hard to trick him."

"Yeah," Lisbon agrees. "I don't have much time, he's sleeping in the car. So, since we're already here, what are your further instructions?"

* * *

><p>Jane does not know exactly what happens, but he knows that Lisbon was not shot in the head and that she is still running. She grabs him by his arm rather forcefully, vehemently pointing her gun at him.<p>

"Get in the car!" she shouts, and he jumps into the driver's seat.

She runs around the front of the car to get in the passenger seat and, as soon as her door is closed shut, they are speeding away. Of course the police cars are soon after them. Jane steps deeper into the accelerator, and Lisbon is thinking that if the car were moving any faster, it would take flight.

"Gonna have to trick them," Jane mumbles, making a sudden left turn.

Lisbon is suddenly finding it hard to keep up with what is happening because she realizes that she is in pain; as she touches her left side, just below her ribs, she realizes her shirt is soaked. She looks at her hand, covered in red moisture.

"You're bleeding," Jane states immediately.

"Really?" she replies sharply. "I hadn't noticed."

"You were shot," his voice has an intense edge to it. "Where?"

"It's nothing," she answers, hoping to shrug him off.

She lifts her shirt with her right hand and, with her left, she examines the wound. She screams in agony. Jane has to make a huge effort to stay focused on the road.

"We have to take you to a hospital," he says.

"Don't be silly," she pants, "It's just a scratch. The bullet just grazed me."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, I'm sure!" she answers angrily.

Jane takes a peek at her.

"You're bleeding too much."

"No, I'm not!"

"But we have to do something! Are you planning to bleed out?"

"I don't think there is much that we can do at the moment," she replies, applying pressure on the wound with her right hand.

"Yes, there is. We can surrender. And you can go to a hospital."

"We can stop and you can get off, but I can't surrender. I have to see my brother."

"Don't be ridiculous, I want to stop so you can be treated."

"_You're_ gonna treat me. When we get rid of them, we'll stop at a drugstore and you'll get antiseptic, gauze and bandages."

Jane sighs, realizing he is not going to be able to convince her.

* * *

><p><em>When I woke up in the morning, I realized I still had my arm<em>_s around her the same way I had held her when we both had fallen asleep the previous night. I could feel the light weaving of her chest against mine as she breathed quietly, and it took me back to those nights watching her sleep and wishing I could be as peaceful. And, at that moment, waking up with her in my arms, I was peaceful._

_But then I remembered what had happened to her the day before and what had been happening to her. And how it was all ultimately my fault. __I squeezed her a little, wishing I could make it all better for her. I had never meant for any of my actions to end up hurting her. And, in fact, if I were to be completely honest, I wished I could just stay with her in my arms like that forever, and never have to worry about anything else. I wished I was capable of such thing. And that she was, too. _

_But we were not. And, of course, our peace could not last for much longer. I was, however, glad I had woken up first. That way, I could pretend for just a little longer that we could always be like that. I placed a soft kiss on the top of her head, taking in the sweet scent of her hair as I felt her breath against my neck. For a moment, I thought she was going to wake up; but she just cuddled up to me and continued sleeping. _

_She slept for maybe another hour. Then she woke up, yawned and sat up. I think she had forgotten about her wound, because she let out a muffled cry of pain. _

"_Lisbon," I said. "Does it hurt too much?"_

_She turned and looked at me, then lied back down next to me, not touching, but close. _

"_I'll live," was her only answer. _

"_I think that's it," I said, then I saw it as she moved her head to have a good look at my face. I turned to face her too. "That was Red John's plan all along. He didn't want me to think you were guilty, he knew I never would. He knew I'd get you out of prison and we'd be hunt down like animals and you'd end up dead and I'd only have myself to blame."_

_She __uttered no answer, and we just lay there, next to each other, without speaking, for quite a long time. _

* * *

><p>It is night when Lisbon and Jane are convinced they are not being followed by anybody else. At this point, Lisbon seems weak on the passenger seat, almost asleep, and Jane is worried about her. He stops the car next to a drugstore and rushes inside to get what he needs to clean and bandage her wound. He does it as quickly as he can, then gets back in the car and drives fast on his way to the nearest motel.<p>

"Lisbon," he shakes her lightly. "Wake up, we need to go."

She opens her eyes and takes his hand so she can get out of the car. He puts his jacket around her and helps her walk. She barely sees her surroundings, but she feels cold, and shivers.

"Almost there," he guarantees.

Inside the motel, Lisbon has regained practically full consciousness, but the lights around her seem too bright against her eyes. She takes cover on Jane's chest.

"Good evening," Jane says, hoping that no blood is visible under his jacket. "We need a room. You see, she drank a bit too much, she needs some medicine and some sleep."

He gestures showing the drugstore bag, but the man behind the counter does not seem to care; neither does he take a very good look at them. He just hands Jane a key and indicates which side to go. Jane thanks him politely and starts moving, nudging Lisbon lightly.

"Come on, honey, let's go."

As soon as they are inside the room and the door is locked, she removes his jacket, throws herself on the bed and stops trying to contain the grunts of pain. Her jaw is hurting from having gritted her teeth so much. Jane sits next to her on the bed and rolls up her shirt to access the wound. There is a lot of blood, and the sight makes him shiver. Without thinking too much about it, he dips a ball of cotton into the alcohol and starts cleaning the wound. She screams into the pillow. As he continues, the scream turns into a whimper, and he wishes he could make her pain stop.

"People in the other rooms are gonna think we're having wild sex in here," he comments, in an attempt to make her smile, but she does not.

"Hand me my gun and I'll make you scream as well."

He chuckles at her answer, then, after cleaning, he bandages her with gauze, and when it is finished, he leaves his hand on top of it for a moment, as if to comfort her.

"I don't normally… scream," he informs her. "I'm more of a quiet guy in that particular section."

She is calming down now; she turns her face to the side, un-burying it from the pillow. Her eyes seek his, and he takes his other hand to her forehead, pushing her hair away from her face, then caressing her slowly. She just looks back at him, remembering the moment when she was shot; she was being aimed at, and Jane tried to cover her body with his, and, at the time, it seemed like neither had been shot.

"What the hell were you doing?" she demands to know.

"What do you mean?" he frowns.

"You tried to take the bullet instead of me," she accuses.

He does not say anything; he just looks away from her.

"What were you thinking? If they saw you trying to protect me it would have completely blown our cover!"

"I know," he retorts now, impatiently. "I _wasn't_ thinking."

She was going to continue, but decides to let it go. She figures maybe she should even thank him, actually, but she does not do that either. Instead, she just puts her hand on top of the one he is using to caress her wound, and squeezes it. With the hand that he has going through her hair, he wipes her tears, then cups her face, while they stare at each other in silence. A few minutes later, he lies down and pulls her close to him so she rests her head on his shoulder.

"Everything's gonna be fine, we're gonna be fine," he says, squeezing her body against his, carefully avoiding her wound. "I don't know when, I can't promise you that, but... It's all gonna be fine."

And that is the first night they sleep in each other's arms.

On the second night, they initially lie separately in bed, pretending as though the previous night has never happened, but neither of them can seem to find a comfortable position. Then Lisbon turns on her side to look at him.

"I can't sleep," she says.

"Neither can I," he replies.

She reaches for his hand and holds it, and he covers hers with his other hand. Then, she simply rolls towards him; before laying her head on his shoulder, she says something with a shy smile.

"Shut up. And wipe that smirk right off your face."

He just laughs, and contains a sudden string of words that comes to him, ready to escape his mouth: _I love you._ Where did that come from? He considers that as he receives her into his arms for the rest of the night.

On the third night, there is no conversation, suggestion or even hesitation on either part as they simply lie together as though they are already used to doing so every single night.

Which they are.

* * *

><p><em><strong>I hope this chapter has been worth the "evil" cliffhanger (I got that word from quite a few reviews!) Please let me know if it was! ;)<strong>_


	8. Unsettling

8. UNSETTLING

_We barely even looked like ourselves anymore. I was not wearing the kind of clothes I usually do, neither was she. I could see __she missed her phone, gun and badge, the things she would deal with for most part of her days, and she could not resort to their help for anything now. I missed the comfort of a cup of tea whenever I wanted one. And my couch, God, I missed my couch. Long hours in the seat of a car could be so uncomfortable. We had been living in that routine for a few days only, but still it felt like so much longer. _

_It was this sunny afternoon when we finally crossed the border of Illinois, and I could not help but feel relieved, as well as a bit sad, that our road trip was almost over. Actually, the worst part was not knowing what would come next. And, unlike most of the time, this time I really had no idea. I could not let Lisbon see me worried about that, though. _

_We stopped at a gas station to fill the car and buy some snacks and water for the last few hours driving. I was filling the car outside and Lisbon entered the convenience store. After I had finished, I entered as well and paid for the gas. I turned around to look for __her and I caught a glimpse of a terrified look on her face. She just dropped the snacks and walked as fast as she could without running towards the exit, and I followed. _

"_What happened?" I hissed at her as soon as we were outside again._

"_I think one of those guys in there recognized me. He was staring at me."_

"_Maybe he just thought you were pretty," I shrugged. __"You think they're looking for us outside California too?"_

"_I think Bertram would know I'm heading to Chicago to see my brother," she said, staring back at me, deadly serious._

_I looked over my shoulder inside the convenience store and saw one of the customers talking to the man behind the counter. Then he looked in our direction and pointed his finger. I felt Lisbon's hand grabbing my arm and pulling at it, forcing me to start running along with her._

* * *

><p>"I never thought you'd go for that," Jane comments, with some feigned nonchalance, as soon as he recovers from what has just happened.<p>

It is a good thing to have the road as the perfect excuse not to look at her, he thinks, but then he reminds himself that he never feels embarrassed like that. Besides, he does at the same time crave to see her reaction to his teasing.

"You have to remember that I didn't have that many options or enough time. Besides, you didn't seem to be coming up with any ideas. Can you drive any faster?"

"Well, my dear, you know better than most that I always come up with something. _You_ want me to go faster?"

"Oh really? And _did _you happen to think of any ideas that you forgot to mention at the time? Yes, I want you to, if you can, please. We also need to change cars."

"No, but I _would_ have. Your wish is my command."

"Well, I'm sorry if I didn't wait for your genius to manifest and if I somehow invaded your personal space there, but I only did it out of desperation." She sighs, really dissatisfied, then mutters. "I didn't think I'd have to explain this to you. But then… you're you."

He smiles. He really just means to tease her, and he enjoys every second of her irritation.

"What do you mean I'm me?" he teases further.

"Childish, silly, a pain in the ass who won't miss a chance to mess with anybody, no matter what situation they're in."

She seems really offended, and avoids looking at him by focusing on the road outside her window. Jane thinks that maybe he should have spared her and prepares an apology. Before he can say anything, though, she turns to face him, and, to his surprise, she is smiling mischievously.

"You did get totally embarrassed after, though. And certainly didn't come up with any jokes for about ten minutes. May I ask why that is?"

Jane's face suddenly goes blank, and Lisbon smirks, because he looks exactly the way he did then: like he has absolutely no idea of what to do next.

* * *

><p><em>In our escape, we ended up in a small town where people <em>_did not know who we were. It was not only the guy from the motel; nobody seemed to pay attention to us anywhere. We spent a few days there, because Jane was never convinced I had recovered enough from my bullet wound. He kept telling me that if it ever started to look weird he would take me to a hospital one way or another. I would pretend it irritated me, but, in fact, I was enjoying being taken care of for a change. _

_Every night, I would lie with him in bed and he would hold me, and I would feel protected. It was almost as if being shot and ending up in that teeny tiny little town where nobody gave a damn who we were and why we were there made me feel like it was okay to want to feel safe, and to seek that in him. There, it was okay for us to sleep in each other's arms every night and never have to think about why we were doing it. It was like living in a bubble, denying everything else in the world outside. _

_Peaceful and safe as it was, though, we had things to do. I had to see my brother. I thought about him every day, wondering if he was okay, and I could not just call him, I would not want to compromise him in case he had been bugged or something. So, one morning, I woke up and woke Jane up too. As soon as he opened his eyes and looked at me as if asking me why I had to wake him up so abruptly, I looked very deep into his eyes and said._

"_We need to start moving again."_

_He sat up, rubbing his eyes._

"_I'm scared," I informed him. "I'm scared that Bertram or Red John might have interpreted my escape as… I don't know… I'm worried about Tommy. Even if the plan was to have us running and being hunt down by the police, I still need to know that he's okay."_

_Jane nodded, looking deep into my eyes._

"_You should call him" he said. "Call Bertram. Hear what he has to say."_

_I followed his advice, and when I spoke to Bertram on the phone, he seemed concerned for my safety and offered me the number of a bank account from which I could withdraw money without being made. Jane and I discussed whether to take money from it or not, but the truth is that we did not really have a choice. We needed money and could not touch our bank accounts because, if we did, the police would know where we were. _

_So now Bertram could easily tell the CBI to track that account, besides the fact that he could add two plus two and conclude that I was probably heading to Chicago to see Tommy. Therefore, I believed, at the time, that the fact that I had not been arrested yet and that the police did not seem to know clearly where we were heading was a sign hat Bertram was either on my side or just waiting for the right moment to catch me and lock me up forever for the crimes _he_ had committed. _

_Anyway, Bertram also told me to keep on running with Jane; that he would contact Red John and that I should call again later to hear the instructions. And also told me to take care of myself. And I asked myself if he had traced the call, and if his worry was genuine or just an act. _

_Who would have thought I would ever be waiting for Red John's instructions? This was a nightmare. I had to make a huge effort not to cry after hanging up. I surely did not want to cry in front of Jane. Not again. So I just walked towards the car and we drove away from that little town. _

* * *

><p>They reach the car, and Jane shoves Lisbon into the passenger seat.<p>

"Will you let go?" she snaps, slapping his hands away from her.

He obeys, taking his own seat and driving away as fast as he can.

"Don't panic," he says, "maybe it's nothing."

"Yeah it is," she replies. "The guy took a good look at my face and looked like he was undecided whether to tackle me or not. I'm telling you. He recognized me."

Lisbon is visibly disturbed, her arms crossed tightly as thou she is holding herself. Jane sighs.

"Good thing we were able to fill the car, because we're gonna have to drive around for a while."

And so they do, afraid to stop and stay at one place, because moving they stand a better chance to stay out of the police's radar, if they really are after them. When night is about to fall, though, they decide to make a stop as they are going through a dirt road. Jane drives out of the road and stops the car. He takes a deep breath, looking exhausted.

"Not that much fun anymore, huh," Lisbon comments.

Jane looks at her without replying. She is looking out the window, and he can tell the skies and the horizon are bringing memories. This is near the place where she grew up, she must be recognizing her surroundings, he thinks, and he is right. Even if Lisbon does not remember traveling through that particular road, there is something about the air and the sights around her that bring feelings back from her childhood and teenage years. Then Jane notices a silent tear rolling down her face in slow motion.

"Lisbon," he says, touching her arm. "What is it?"

She gives him no answer as she just starts sobbing, quietly at first, which is exasperating for her because she hates the idea that Jane is witnessing her emotional breakdown, but trying to contain it just makes her cry even more. He is still touching her arm and has approached his face to observe her better, which is just unnerving.

"I thought you could read me!" she complains. "What do you want me to say?"

The sight of her pain, so clear in her eyes – and yes, he can read it all – is unbearably heartbreaking. All he wants to do is hold her close and protect her from everything, as he wishes somebody had protected her when she needed most.

"I want you to say something because I know you never talk to anybody about this. Because seeing you struggle to keep it all inside you instead of just opening up and letting go of all that pain is just…"

His words and his unfinished sentence and the way he is holding her arm help her calm down a little bit, but, as unaccustomed as she is to be taken care of, she looks down, away from his eyes. She wants to share it with him, he makes her want to somehow. As if he can guess that she needs his support, and maybe he does, he takes her hand in his.

"There was this one time that he was hitting me and I was already on the floor and he was kicking me. Then Tommy, he was so little… He just _begged_ for him to stop. He kept saying you're gonna kill Teresa, you're gonna kill her, please stop."

That is when her tears make it impossible for her to continue. Upon seeing her so fragile, Jane has no choice other than to take her in his arms and hold her tight, kissing the top of her head and allowing her to hide away in his chest as he keeps her safe in the firm grip of his arms around her, with one hand cupping the back of her head and the other squeezing her lightly at her back. They stay like this for the next fifteen or twenty minutes. In the last five minutes or so, she no longer sobs, feeling suddenly calm and safe. She feels like she does not want to have to come out into the world again, now that she is hiding under Jane's protective arms. On the other hand, she has a feeling that, once she has to come out, she is going to be stronger for some reason. And who could ever guess Jane would ever make her feel like that…

As for Jane, he is sort of proud of the effectiveness of his approach, making Lisbon talk about her feelings and for once cry it all out in front of him and into his chest. As much as he does not wish to get too close to her, for many reasons which he prefers not to think about, he always feels good when he gets the feeling she understands that he can be there for her. Which he really wants to be. He feels like he is supposed to, somehow.

He has, in the last few minutes, been slowly tracing patterns in the back of her head with his fingers, and she has been so quiet that it reminds him of those nights watching her sleep so peacefully. Suddenly the world seems to have gone quiet just so she can reach that peace again, and he feels proud to have helped her. But then he catches a glimpse of the rearview mirror and what he sees in there is sort of unsettling.

"Lisbon," he calls quietly, not happy at all about having to interfere with her peace right now. "Stay calm, but I can see a police car approaching very slowly."

She instantly tenses against him.

"Do you think they're after us?" her voice sounds really scared, and she is. "Do you think they're driving slow because they're gonna check us out?"

"I don't know," he says, not looking directly at the mirror but watching from the corner of his eye as the car approaches. "But one way or another we are stopped next to the road so they are certainly going to be asking themselves what the hell is our good reason for doing so."

Without thinking too much, Lisbon has the perfect idea for a very good reason why they would be there at that time, with their car stopped next to the road. Before Jane can make sense of what is going on, she has emerged from his arms and her face is too close to his and, the next thing he knows, her lips are touching his.


	9. Gone

_**Inspiration works in mysterious ways... **__**Just when you think you will probably not update your story for like a month, because, after all, it is the very end of the semester and you have a tight deadline to deliver two articles, one of which you haven't even started, a whole chapter comes to you. Thank you so much once again Madam Spooky, for your encouragement and funny reactions!**_

* * *

><p>9. GONE<p>

_I had already tossed my gun__. _

_That was the end of the line.__ I could not believe what I had just heard._

_I took a deep breath, because I did not know what would come next. I looked at Jane, who had his brows furrowed, and I scowled at him. Do not blow the cover, I thought. You have to be the relieved hostage __who has just been set free. I hoped he got all of that from my eyes. He probably did, even though he looked reluctant in granting my request. Which he did, eventually. He hugged the cop who conducted him to the police car in which I watched him enter. Another cop came and handcuffed me, and I thought about how I was getting used to that. I sighed, though, because I could not make sense of how it all had just happened. _

_The officer__ pulled at my arm, making me walk towards the other police car. That was a mistake. That was not the way we had been found. It had been somebody who had seen us, recognized me from a mugshot, the guy from the motel, whatever. I refused to believe what had just happened, and I was sure I would eventually find out that I was right. I took a furtive glance at the other car and saw Jane staring at me. I scowled again. Stop it. He ignored me, and when did he ever obey my orders? I almost had to smile at that thought. The cop pushed my head down so I would not hit it against the car as I got in. Then he slammed the door shut. I shook my head. That is not the way it happened, I told myself. _

* * *

><p>Maybe it is the shock, the surprise, or the realization that it is actually a very good idea to distract the cops, but Jane instantly responds to the kiss in kind, squeezing her with the arms he still has around her. The taste of her lips is instantly addictive, and Jane asks himself if he is going to be able to stop when he has to. Up until now, he has never noticed how much he has ever wanted to kiss her.<p>

He cups her face, pulling her even closer and inviting her to deepen the kiss, which she accepts, because it is going to be much more believable for the cops, she tells herself, but also because this is that feeling of him protecting her and keeping her safe from the world outside all over again, but multiplied by thousands. Also, the heat of his lips against hers and the sound of his breath so close and the taste and the feeling of his tongue exploring the interior of her mouth is sending chills down her body against her will. She clutches at his shirt, trying to restrain the feelings his kiss is causing, hoping he will not notice. Jane, on his part, is hoping _she _does not notice how much he is trying to contain the sudden urge to rip her clothes open.

He breaks the kiss and proceeds down her neck, kissing and biting and sucking gently. He knows it is going to look like too much for just an act, but he suddenly realizes he has to do it, because he has a very good excuse to do it and, later on, when he has to deal with the thoughts and feelings triggered by this stunt, he is going to wish he had done so, so he just lets his lips trace the line of her jaw until he reaches her ear and he is delighted to hear her let a little moan escape her mouth, even though that also makes him that much more driven to find what else makes her moan. Lisbon curses herself for having shown just how much she is not just acting, but, for a millisecond, she figures that, since that has happened and since Jane seems to be somehow trying to make her react to his stimuli, she might try to provoke him as well, so she slips both her hands under his shirt, and enjoys the instant effect of her action as he shivers against her and squeezes her more forcefully, letting out a groan against her ear.

But then, something she has not planned happens; unexpectedly, his manifestations of the effects she is causing in him cause effects in her as well, and she finds herself sinking her fingers into his skin as he grabs her face to kiss her fully on the lips once again. She savors the taste of his lips for a little longer, because she knows that they have been making out for about five minutes now and the police car is certainly long gone, otherwise they would have already been interrupted. She removes her hands from under his shirt and places them on his chest to push him away lightly, painfully breaking the kiss.

For a second, they stare at each other, breathless, in a sudden and reciprocal realization that they would both rather continue with that. But then, both resort to pretending that nothing much has really happened and that it was all just a show for the cops. Lisbon looks at both sides of the road, making sure no other cars are around.

"They're gone," she sates the obvious, just so she has anything to say.

"Yes they are," Jane comments, turning in his seat so he can begin to drive away immediately, as though they can simply leave that kiss behind, on the side of the road.

* * *

><p><em>I certainly did not want to think about my reactions when Lisbon first started to kiss me. It was almost as though something I had been containing for a long time had finally had a chance to come out of its hiding place and it had taken me a while to put it back in its cage. <em>_I certainly did not want to think about the details of what had happened either, like the texture of her lips or the taste of her tongue or her smell from close up, or her silky hair between my fingers, or the velvet-like contact between my lips and her neck, and her little unrestrained moans here and there. _

_Attempting to remain in control of those thoughts I focused on the tasks at hand. A lot of driving was necessary in order to find a place to leave the rental car that was from a walking distance to a place where we could rent another. __Then, we looked for a place where we could eat something and, during the meal, we decided to continue driving into the night, to just get to Chicago for once. I was suddenly in favor of not, in any circumstances, having to ever share a bed with Lisbon again, and likewise motivations might have made her agree to not stopping for the night. She would drive, though, because I had been driving all day. _

_We never returned to the issue – a distraction to the police it had been, and therefore needed not be brought up again – and I was thankful. I had to focus. We were close now; we would soon arrive in Chicago and I hoped we would find Red John's accomplice, and this time I would not let this guy escape until I had a consistent clue. _

* * *

><p>It is a bright morning, and Lisbon and Jane are sitting in a diner. He is having a cup of tea while she has coffee. Neither ordered anything to eat. They just sit in silence, savoring their respective favorite drinks. They are wearing disguises again, for fear of being spotted by Red John's man, whoever it is. Jane is the one to break the silence.<p>

"So you grew up here," he states.

He had been in Chicago before, but now he is looking at it from a whole different perspective. He is imagining Lisbon small, going to school, growing up to become who she is. He figures she is reliving those memories too, by the nostalgic yet painful look in her eyes as she stares out the window.

"Yup," she confirms, after a sip. "We actually came to this very diner a lot. When mom was still alive."

She takes another sip, avoiding his eyes and another breakdown. He nods.

"Are there any other family members living here or just your brother?"

"Just Tommy," she answers, and Jane waits for her to explain further but she does not.

"And what's the plan?" he asks, now more objectively.

She now finally looks at him.

"Not much of a plan, but…" she takes a piece of paper from inside her jacket and signals for the waitress to come over to their table. When the young girl approaches, she asks, in a low tone of voice. "Does Tommy still work here?"

The girl does not pause at her gum-chewing to answer, showing no emotion.

"Yeah, he does the night shift."

"Good," Lisbon says, handing the piece of paper to her. "Would you give this to him, please?"

"Sure," the girl answers, putting the piece of paper away and leaving.

* * *

><p><em>There had never been a plan. <em>_And certainly there was none now. We had only hit the road because we had to, and since we were running, I figured I would run to see Tommy. I had to see him. Not just know about him or hear his voice, I had to actually see him. Jane had agreed to join me, but I knew his objective was to find Red John, even though his help and company were welcome. Sincerely, I am not entirely sure I would have been able to get to Chicago without him. To be honest, I would still be in that prison if he had not helped me. Especially because I would probably not have allowed myself to even consider the possibility if I had been alone. _

_So I was thankful. And not only had Jane helped me, but he had also been a real friend and shown me I could trust him – even though I still feared that he might forget all about it when the opportunity to even catch a glimpse of anything related to Red John came. But, at the moment, I was not thinking about tomorrows; I was only thinking about the present, and Jane had so far been certainly much more than I would have expected him to be. Which was, I could see afterwards, part of why I had let that kiss go on for so long. I had wanted to kiss him, to somehow show some kind of gratefulness for what he had been doing for me, maybe not even so much to show _him_, maybe to show myself. I did not know, I could not explain; I just knew that some kind of feeling had manifested during that kiss, something I did not really want to think about, but which involuntarily made me feel warm in my heart whenever it came to my mind. _

_Then I would shrug it off, because, as thankful as I was, I had to focus on what I was meant to do next. Like I said, I was not thinking about the future, because, in fact, it scared me. The furthest into the future I would think about was the next goal, the next thing to do. And the thing was I could not think about the past either. My life might not be exactly as I might have dreamed it would be as a little girl, or a life most people would envy, but the truth is I liked it. I liked my job, and I liked my routine, hectic as they might be. I liked living on my own; as a matter of fact I loved it. I had always enjoyed my own company. And being alone, romantically, even though it might sound like failure for many people, sounded like safety for me. No chance of getting hurt. So it hurt me to think of what I had left behind, to think of my life, because it was a known and safe place; I missed it so much. My life, now, was all but known and safe. _

_Even now, when I was about to see my brother, when I was so eager to make sure he was okay, when I was surrounded by our tragic childhood, waiting for him__ at night, in the park we used to play as kids, to which I had referred to in code in my note, so that only he would understand… there was still the possibility that he might not show up, which would make me dead worried. There was still the possibility that he might not know me anymore, that he might have heard of the crimes I was being accused to have committed and that he might have believed I was guilty. Actually, that had been the first thing I had thought once I had seen myself inside a cell. Would my brothers hear about it? Would they believe I was guilty? _

_Then a silhouette a few feet away brought me suddenly back from my thoughts. I felt relief wash over me. He was there. He was okay._

* * *

><p>Jane stands back as he watches Tommy approach Lisbon – it must be him, because she recognizes him – and, without a word, they hug, and stay like that for the next several minutes. Even in the dark night he observes her motherly manners towards him, and cannot help but smile lightly. When they are letting go of each other, Jane approaches. Lisbon swiftly wipes her tears and gestures towards him.<p>

"Tommy, this is my friend Patrick Jane," she says.

The two men shake hands, then Lisbon gets right down to business.

"Tommy, have you noticed anybody following you?"

He looks really confused.

"No, Teresa… Nobody is following me. Is that why you wanted to see me? I was surprised to find out like that that you were in town!"

She blinks her eyes nervously.

"So you don't know," she says, her tone undecided between a statement and a question.

"Know what?"

She sighs, waving her hands.

"There isn't much time to explain. You _are _being followed, or at least were."

"I would know if I were being followed, Teresa…"

"Damn it, Tommy!" she snaps. "Why are you so damn stubborn?"

"I wonder where he got that from…" Jane comments, with a smile.

Lisbon is telling him all about the pictures Bertram had showed her, and he seems really surprised. That is when Jane notices something. He touches Lisbon's arm, and she looks at him questioningly.

"Somebody's watching us."

As soon as he is finished saying that, he has started running towards whoever it is he has seen in the distance.

* * *

><p><em>As soon as I saw it, all I could think was that Lisbon's attempt to getting rid of her handcuffs by the means of the paper clip trick I had taught her had been noticed and she had fought and everything was going terribly wrong. I never anticipated, though, that the car would hit a tree and start flipping, continuously, until it was not visible anymore behind a big amount of trees. I felt as though my heart had stopped beating and the air had escaped my lungs, and I could see Lisbon's glare in my head, telling me not to blow the cover. That I was supposed to act like I hated her. <em>

_The policeman behind the wheel took a sudden turn to follow the other car, his colleague already on the phone, contacting 911. It took a great amount of restraint to keep myself from asking the guy if he could drive any faster. When we finally reached the other car, it lay upside down, white smoke coming out of it, and I was suddenly shaking. The two cops got out and walked towards the wrecked car; so did I._

"_Stay in the car, Mr. Jane," one of them ordered, but like hell I was going to stay in the car. _

_I approached slowly, my eyes fixed on the windows, trying to see anything. There was absolutely no movement inside that car. I felt my eyes starting to water, and I knew I had to avoid any tears from coming out, but to hell with everything at this point. _

"_Lisbon!" I called, approaching the car even more. _

_One of the cops held me back._

"_Don't approach the car, sir!"_

"_Let me go!" I demanded, rather harshly._

_His colleague was already on his knees next to the car, looking through the windows. Then he said something that triggered those tears to finally jump. _

"_She's gone."_


	10. Alone

**_Sorry guys for the late update, but I was trying to get work/uni stuff done. Now I'll have some time off, which I'd love to use to get lots of writing done, so let's see what comes out of it. I hope you enjoy this chapter, please R&R! ;)_**

* * *

><p>10. ALONE<p>

A moment of indecision goes by as Lisbon tries to decide between chasing the mysterious bystander with Jane and staying behind to protect her brother. She finally decides upon grabbing Tommy's arm and pulling him along with her as she runs.

"Have you ever seen that man?" she asks.

"I didn't even see him now!"

"Oh, damn it!"

It is dark, and Lisbon can no longer see Jane or the man he is following.

"Jane!" she calls. "Jane, where are you?"

She stops running, and Tommy stops next to her. She is panting, looking all around her, nobody in sight. She realizes she does not know what to do.

* * *

><p><em>Thank God for that police car. <em>

_It did not have that net protection between the front and back seats. And thank God for Patrick Jane and his paper clip trick. In less than five minutes my hands were free. I just waited until we were on the road, following the car in which Jane was, to steal the cop in the passenger seat's gun and attack the driver, and the next thing I know we are off the road and the sky is where the ground is supposed to be, then back where it belongs, then upside down again until I bump my head and everything goes black. _

_Thank God I quickly regained my consciousness. __Before I could even assess my situation and that of the cops in the car with me, I knew I had to get out of that car, so I did it. I felt dizzy, but I could not give in; I ran away the best way I could, hiding among the trees, knowing I had to make a head start before dozens of police cars arrived to search for me. I wished I could leave some kind of message behind for Jane, to let him know I was all right, but at the moment that was out of the question. I hoped he would know, though, that being able to run away was good enough a clue that I was fine. Even though my head was aching, and I was bleeding from it. _

* * *

><p>Lisbon and her brother are in the car and have been there, waiting, for almost an hour. There has been absolutely no sign of Jane. Lisbon is nervous, drumming her fingers on the steering wheel.<p>

"I don't think he's coming back here, Teresa," Tommy states.

She sighs, impatiently.

"Where else is he gonna go?"

She does not want to think about the reasons why he might not come back, and that is why she has waited so long and would rather continue waiting. But she cannot lie to herself any further, that she is not worried or that she is not thinking that maybe that was Red John's guy and Jane has finally ditched her like she knew he would when the time came. So, without a word, she starts the engine and drives away.

"Where are we going?" Tommy wants to know. "To go to my place you have to turn left on…"

"That's not where we're going," she informs him. "Your place is not safe for you anymore."

As they drive, Lisbon explains everything that is happening to her younger brother. He seems confused, because he does not even know who Red John is and why it is so important to run from him or find him. She does try to explain it as well as she can, though, and he seems to be making an effort to understand, even though he does not look convinced about the risk he is at. She stops the car at a motel room just outside Chicago and orders a room for two.

"Actually, two rooms," Tommy interferes.

Lisbon throws a surprised look at him, who nods in a plea for her agreement.

"Two rooms," she reiterates.

They enter the same one, though, because she wants him to explain himself.

"Seriously, Teresa?" he asks. "We're not kids anymore. I'm used to living on my own. I'm sorry, but I need my privacy."

"I'd prefer to focus on your safety!" she retorts, strictly.

"Teresa, look…" he approaches her and takes both her hands. "I appreciate everything you're doing to try to protect me, but I don't even see the danger. Besides, I'm a big boy and I can take care of myself. You want me to sleep here close to you tonight, that's fine. But we're not kids anymore. We don't need to share a room so you can protect me."

That appeals to her, and she realizes he knew the exact words to say. He is not her little brother anymore, and having him sleep on a bed next to hers will not protect him from the world outside, no matter how much she might wish it would. She does eventually say good night to him, though, and goes into the other room in order to grant him his privacy, but she has no intentions of sleeping. Instead, she sits on the armchair in her room, thinking about where Jane might be and whether he was able to catch the guy. She wonders if he needs her help, but one thing he never needs her help with is Red John. When that is the issue, he finds a way to do it all by himself.

It also nags her that, as much as she believes he has ditched her for real this time, she does wonder if he has or will try to find her in the park, and feels guilty for not being there. She even contains urges to get in her car and drive back there, see if she can find him, but feels stupid when she reminds herself that he probably believes that, right now, he is better off without her. Besides, Tommy is asleep in the other room. She cannot just leave him there, when she has demanded that he stays with her for the night. She curses herself and her inability to think and act for herself. As difficult as it is for her to admit it, she has become very dependent on Jane during those days, in this unknown, foreign life that she has never experienced before. He has been with her from the beginning, and she has to admit that she feels lost at the perspective of being suddenly without him.

And that makes her angry. It makes her angry that he is capable of just leaving her behind like that. After all the demonstrations that he believed her and that he cared about her; all probably just a show, just to get him where he really wanted to be. He is such a smart guy, she thinks; what if he has known about Bertram's plan all along and has just been using her to get to Red John's man?

Her brain is tired. And so is her body. Her back hurts terribly, and she wishes she had something strong to drink. She lays her head back, because it seems to weigh a thousand pounds. It is already day by then, and her consciousness forces itself to go under for what feels like a few minutes. When she wakes up, it is already eight o'clock in the morning. She stands up quickly, and does not waste a second to get to Tommy's room.

To her relief, he sleeps safe and sound in there, and does not even notice her presence. She suddenly figures it is time to go looking for Jane, despite whatever else that might be going through her head. So she writes down a note and leaves it by Tommy's bed, letting him know she will be gone for a short while but will be right back.

Lisbon then rushes outside and gets into the car. She drives back into Chicago and on her way to the park, hoping Jane might be around. And she is very surprised to find his familiar figure walking down the street so soon. The sight of him suddenly makes her furious. She stops the car near him and rolls down her window.

"Oh, _there_ you are!" she exclaims, ironically.

Jane turns around.

"There _you_ are," he says, with a small smile, walking around the car and quickly taking his seat next to her.

"Why the hell did you not come back?" she asks, her lips trembling with rage.

She is already driving, speeding up more than usual, Jane observes. He looks around, as if gesturing for her that the answer is clear and lies right ahead of her.

"I was chasing the man who we thought was following your brother."

Then she snaps, raising her voice.

"Don't put it on these terms! You were chasing the man who you thought would lead you to Red John!"

"I see no difference," Jane shrugs mockingly.

"You ditched me," she accuses, her voice almost a whisper now. An angry, deadly whisper. "You ditched me because you thought you were close to Red John."

Jane seems to falter in his humorous demeanor.

"What about you ditching me? I did eventually go back to the park, you weren't there anymore."

"How long exactly did you expect me to be there waiting for you, especially when I was sure you had ditched me because that's what you always do? I had to take my brother somewhere safe!"

This is when Jane waves his hands, trying to bring her back from her fury attack.

"Don't you want to know what happened after I caught the guy?"

That seems to make her stop. He takes a deep breath, because he does not bring good news.

* * *

><p><em>I had to run.<em>

_When I saw the son of a bitch, I knew it was Red John's man. I knew it was the man I had been looking for, who could give me some information on the man I had been chasing for years. So I ran, and I forgot about everything else – or I forced myself. Lisbon was on my mind, I could not lie, but I had to decide to assume she would figure out what to do next. Because I had to run and get that guy. I just knew I had to. _

_I ran for a long while, and I did not even know where I was anymore, never losing sight of him. He tried to divert me, to take shortcuts to leave me behind, but I was determined to catch him, as I was determined to find Red John. And I did it. I caught the son of a bitch. I tackled him and held him with my fingernails. He was not going anywhere. _

_That is when he started pleading._

"_Sir, please, don't hurt me… I wasn't gonna rob you, I swear!"_

"_Rob me?" I asked, shaking the guy. "Don't play dumb with me, I know who you are. I know you're Red John's man!"_

"_Who? Sir, I'm sorry, I swear you have me confused with somebody else! I wasn't gonna rob you guys, I promise!"_

_The man seemed to be in his late twenties, wearing ragged, dirty clothes. He was really, really thin, like he was lacking nutrition, and his breath smelled like alcohol. Of course it could all be a very well orchestrated show to fool me, so I had to make sure._

"_You don't know Red John?" I asked, pulling away so I could have a better look at his face. _

"_I don't even know what you're talking about, sir!" he pleaded._

_At that point, all I wanted was to see that he was lying, to make all that running – with Lisbon and now, literally – worth it. But h__e was telling the truth. I let him go, and looked for the first bar. I needed a drink, or many. _

* * *

><p>"Shhhhhhh!" Lisbon puts her index finger to her lips and whispers. "I heard something."<p>

"Heard what?" Jane asks, whispering too.

"Something that sounds like at least two fast cars trying to stop silently."

"You mean…?"

"Police, yeah!" she gestures exasperatedly, approaching the window slowly and trying to look through the space between the blinds.

Jane's eyes widen and he looks around the motel room, looking for some kind of answer. They have just arrived, the only thing they had done was check up on Tommy to make sure he was still safe asleep, how had they not noticed any police cars?

"Two cars," she whispers. "Four officers taking position, pointing guns. At this room, Jane."

She takes a deep breath, turning around to face him, and he sees surrender in her eyes. He nods, communicating with her.

"You'll turn yourself in," he states, something in between a question, a demand and a realization.

"Yes," she confirms.

"Look," he says, with urgency in his voice. "Remember that paper clip trick I once taught you? To get rid of handcuffs?"

He has a paper clip in his hand, that he has just taken from his pocket. He hands it out to her, and she takes it silently, nodding slowly, tears shining in her eyes, a sight that breaks his heart. He feels unbearably powerless. Then they hear a voice coming through a megaphone.

"Teresa Lisbon, we know you're in there with one remaining hostage. This motel is surrounded, there is no way out."

Lisbon and Jane nod at each other once again, and walk together towards the door.

"You go first," she orders, and at first he hesitates. "Come on, let's just get this over with."

"Okay," he says, turning around, opening the door and putting his hands in the air as he starts slowly walking. "I'm okay," he announces, hoping that will make it clear that no shooting is necessary.

When he has already reached the officers, Lisbon appears at the door, holding her gun but not pointing it.

"Ms. Lisbon, put down your weapon and put your hands in the air."

She tosses the gun towards the commanding officer, and looks into his eyes, with her hands in the air.

"Sir," she says. "There's a man in the other room who needs protection. Whatever you do to me, just make sure he's safe."

"The man in the other room _is_ safe, ma'am. It's over. He managed to escape."

"Escape? You mean he's not there?"

"Like hell he's there! He managed to escape and called us in. This is over for you, Ms. Lisbon. You are under arrest."

"But, sir, you don't understand, the man in the other room is…"

"Thomas Lisbon?" the officer asks, but, clearly, he already knows it. "Your brother?"


	11. Stop Resisting

_**I would just like to thank the reviews I couldn't answer to, thank you so much! **_

_**I think you'll realize the story is now proceeding towards its end, maybe two or three more chapters after this one. I hope you enjoy the final chapters, please let me know what you think! **_

* * *

><p>11. STOP RESISTING<p>

_I had thought that, when__ I could stop running, I would feel relieved. But I did not. All I could think about was that car, flipping over, and the moments during which I had been sure that Lisbon was dead. Finding out she had escaped had only eased my concern momentarily, because there was no way of knowing for certain that she was alive and well, wherever she was. _

_My first impulse was to tell everyone that she was innocent, but I could not do that without a plan. I still did not know what Bertram's intentions were, or what Tommy's intentions were, and I had to find out. Besides, the search for her was probably even more thorough while everyone thought she was a criminal – so, at the same time that I dreaded the possibility of several guns being pointed at her, a part of me also longed for them to find her, if I could not find her first, of course, because not knowing was the worst thing. _

_Later__ that day, the CBI team arrived. Still keeping our cover, or her cover, whatever, I had to make an effort to look scared and relieved, like the victimized consultant hijacked by his former boss who had just been set free, thank God. Well, except for the thank God part, that would be an exaggeration even for me. Cho and Rigsby shook my hand, saying they were glad I was okay, and Van Pelt gave me an affectionate hug. She had gone into the trouble of preparing me a bag with clothes. She had also found my cell phone and brought it to me._

"_I found it near the penitentiary, the day that…" she hesitated, sadness in her features. "The day that she took you."_

_The day that I took _her_, I wanted to reiterate, because it was sad to see Grace so let down, and because it was sad that Lisbon could be hurt somewhere, needing help, while everyone who cared about her and whom she cared about thought she was a dangerous murderer. But I did not say anything; I just nodded, trying to look traumatized by the scene she was mentioning. _

_In fact, __I had to lie a considerable deal that day, because I was questioned several times, by several people, including our own Cho; they wanted clues that told them where Lisbon might be heading, they wanted details that might clarify how she had been able to escape from prison in the first place, they wanted to know what Thomas Lisbon had to do with anything, why she had come after him and kidnapped him. Actually, he had disappeared right after he had called the police; the cops had wanted to interrogate him further, but he was nowhere to be found. Of course._

_I did not mind having to stay at the station the whole day, because that way I could stay informed about the search for Lisbon. When the sun was about to go down, I received a call in my just recovered cell phone. It was from a number in the Chicago area code that I did not know. _

"_Hello," I answered, being careful not to be heard by anybody._

"_Jane? Is that you?" _

_It was her voice._

* * *

><p>"Excuse me, Director Bertram," the secretary says, entering the room.<p>

"Yes, dear," he answers, laying back on his chair, "what have you got?"

"I was asked to inform you" she says, approaching his desk, "that the Serious Crimes Unit of the CBI has arrived in Sacramento and that they have Agent Lisbon in custody."

Bertram nods, with a very serious expression.

"Where is she right now?"

"She's in a holding cell at the CBI headquarters."

"Thank you," he says politely, straightening his jacket. "Let them know I want to question her right away.

* * *

><p><em>He did not say a word. He just came<em>_ back that night, after he had left not an hour earlier, and grabbed me, and kissed me like there was no tomorrow. He pushed me against a wall, took my legs and curled them up around his waist, squeezing me with his chest, breathing heavily in between kisses, his hands travelling to places I would never allow myself to imagine him touching. I tried to protest, but he was not going to stop, neither did I really, sincerely, want him to. He held me up and placed me on the bed, then crawled on top of me, desire in his eyes. He hungrily kissed me again, his hands slowly going up under my jersey. The truth is he came into my room that night and took me like I was his, and had me like I was his. Through moans and pleads for him not to stop, he did ask for my permission, his first words, actually, since I had opened the door._

"_I want to make you mine. Can I make you mine?"_

* * *

><p>The heavy door opens, revealing the big man, looking directly at her with an indefinite expression on his face. Before entering, he turns around to ask Cho, who is right behind him, to turn the surveillance off. The agent seems quite surprised and dissatisfied with the request at first, but ends up obeying, albeit hesitantly. Then Bertram finally turns around to face Lisbon again, finally walking into the cell, the door being closed behind him as soon as he is inside. He straightens his suit jacket, looking almost embarrassed.<p>

"Lisbon," he says, simply, still standing while she sits with her arms leaning on the table.

She does not answer, she just looks at him with a blank expression. He walks slowly towards the table, then sits down, facing her.

"How are you?" he asks.

Lisbon chuckles. Is he really asking how she is? He laughs as well.

"I know," he says. "Stupid question. I hoped to break the ice a little bit."

The smile vanishes from Lisbon's face, and she is suddenly glaring at him. Then, in a quick movement, a gun appears in her hand, and she points it to Bertram's face.

"Look at me, you son of a bitch. You're gonna take an oath before my gun. You're gonna tell me the truth, the whole truth, and so help you God!"

"C-calm down, Lisbon," Bertram stutters, both hands up, wishing he had not had Cho dismiss the surveillance in the cell. "How the hell did you manage to bring a gun with you? I imagine you must be really stressed out with all you've been through, but there's no reason for that."

"Well, let's just say I've learned a lot during the last few days," she comments grimly. "I had to make sure you'd tell me the truth."

"Well, I'm on your side!" he practically pleads. Lisbon enjoys watching the man become a coward before a gun. "You know that, don't you?"

"I don't know anything anymore. Help me understand."

"What exactly do you want to hear?" he asks, waving his hands in the air anxiously.

"Everything."

* * *

><p><em>I woke up looking for her on the bed, because for <em>_most f the night I had felt her lying on my chest and held her close to me. But I did not find her. I rolled over for a while, then eventually sat up to find her sitting on the armchair, fully dressed and looking at me with an expression very similar to one of disgust. As soon as our eyes met, she started speaking._

"_Last night was a mistake. We can't do this, for many reasons, like the fact that we work together. We won't even talk about it anymore, okay? We'll just forget what happened."_

_Before I could even formulate any kind of response, she stood up, very business-like, avoiding my eyes._

"_I'm gonna step outside so you can have your…" she seemed to look for an appropriate word. "… privacy."_

_She left the room._

* * *

><p>"Come inside," Jane says, about a minute later. "Don't be ridiculous. You shouldn't be out there."<p>

He, however, does not wait for her, and when she finally decides to enter the room again, she hears the sound of the shower. She feels anxious, for too many reasons. She checks the time every two minutes. Staring at the messy sheets on the bed, moments from the night before start making their way back into her mind, but she fiercely fights them; details like the taste of his lips, or the tight grip of his hands on every inch of her body, or the satisfaction of making him breathless… All product of a moment of weakness and uncertainty, obviously. A mistake which could not be repaired, though must be forgotten. She hopes he will help her with that task – but then, when does Jane ever make things easier for her?

He comes out of the bathroom not long after that, already fully dressed, but with his hair still wet, a sight which she has grown used to contemplate every day during their forced closeness, but which astounds her now more than ever. And then she needs to avoid those memories of the previous night once more. Like it is possible. He stares at her, very serious, and she stares back, unwilling to show any signs of vulnerability or flexibility in her resolve. Her decision has been made, and he has to come to terms with that. Unless, of course, he also thinks they have made a mistake… In that case, things would undoubtedly be so much easier, but, for some reason, she does not like the idea very much. Even though she knows she should.

She breaks eye contact, because he will not.

"I think you're right," he says, though, bringing her attention right back. "I think we should forget about… _you-know-what_, and go on with our lives as usual."

As always, she cannot be sure what his motivations for saying that are, and she is somehow surprised and… disappointed? No, of course not. It is a good thing he is trying to make things easier, that is not his usual M.O.

"Good," she says, nodding. "I'm glad you agree."

A few awkward moments go by, and Lisbon hates to find out they are both extremely uncomfortable around each other being in the same room. He sits on the armchair, staring at some random spot, while she figures she should stand in the opposite corner, staring at another random spot, both in silence, listening only to their own thoughts. That is when they hear the sound of an engine approaching and then the sound is gone. They automatically exchange a look, and before they can look away, without any warning, the door just comes down.

After a few preoccupied seconds of being startled, Lisbon takes her gun out of her pocket in a reflex as Cho, Rigsby and Van Pelt are quickly where the door used to be, pointing their guns at her. She is pointing hers at Jane, and she suddenly realizes how tired she is of all the acting. With three guns pointed at her, she does not resist longer than just a few seconds, tossing her own gun to her former team and putting her hands up. She throws a look at Jane, who stares at her still. She does not anticipate the moment when her hands will be locked together by handcuffs, but she just closes her eyes and waits for it.

* * *

><p>"All right…" Bertram starts. "Well, I've been in contact with Red John operatives for quite some time and I've convinced them that I am loyal to them and that I might give them privileged information from inside the CBI."<p>

"Did you kill Todd Johnson for them?"

"Of course not!" he says, looking outraged.

She stands up, still pointing the gun at him.

"Remember, Gale, that you're under oath."

He sighs loudly, probably calculating his options.

"All right, I did," he decides upon confessing. "But it was a necessary sacrifice; I needed to gain their trust!"

"You keep saying they," Lisbon states, "who's they? Who exactly in Red John's organization have you been in contact with? And my unit is on the Red John case, why is it you never thought of mentioning any of this to us?"

All of a sudden, Bertram bursts into laughter.

"Ah, Lisbon," he says, when he can speak again, still laughing through words. "You speak like you're still head of the Serious Crimes Unit!"

Then, only a second later, he becomes incredibly serious.

"Look around you!" he raises his voice. "You're inside a cell! I don't know how you managed to bring a gun…"

"Shhhhhhhhhhh!" she hisses, interrupting him, and points her gun to his face even more vehemently. "No screaming to alert the guards, you understand?"

Betram raises both hands again, nodding. He takes some time to sigh again and look around him. Then, waving his hands insistently, he speaks again.

"Look, I don't know what you want from me. But please, I'm ready to cooperate, you don't have to point that gun at me."

"What I want from you?" she asks rhetorically, her gun still at the ready. "The truth. Who have you been in contact?"

"I can't tell you that."

Now it is her turn to sigh, frustrated, while cocking her head to the side and squinting at him.

"I have nothing else to lose, Bertram. So I _will_ shoot if I have to."

They just stare at each other for a moment.

"What does my brother have to do with anything?" she asks, anxious for too many answers.

"Oh, that," he nods, scratching the back of his head. "Well, don't blame him. He needed the money."

"What exactly was he paid to do?"

"What he did. Wait for you and, when you arrived, call the cops. Simple as that. He doesn't even know anything about Red John. You might want to know that he did want to make sure you wouldn't be harmed before he took the job. He's a good kid after all. You did a good job raising him, don't doubt that."

"Oh, thank you," she says, sarcastically, a tear dancing in her eye. "Why? Why did you show me his pictures and have me pretend I was the mole and go through all this? Tell me the truth. It's Red John you're with, spying on us, isn't it? Not the other way around. You can tell me, it's just you, me, and my gun."

"What do you want me to say, you want me to congratulate you for finding it all out too late? Yes it was a trap. Yes, I knew putting your brother on the game would make you lose your judgment. That you would do anything to make sure he was all right. It was a trap to frame you, and you've been framed. It's over for you. And if you shoot me, it's even worse. Isn't it?"

"Is it?"

She moves closer to him, her eyes tearing up with hatred, and, before she can know what hit her, something moves quickly under her, lifting her feet off the ground and making her lose her balance. She shoots, but apparently Bertram is not harmed, because, a second later, he is on top of her on the floor, a proud smile on his face.

"It's over, Lisbon. Stop resisting."


	12. And she is back

**_To those who were confused about last chapter's events, this one is meant to clarify those. At this point, I'm at a complete loss as to how many chapters more. I've found out that saying stuff like "there will be 2 more" is just what it takes for youto think of one more or one less, so I guess I'm not going to say things like that anymore!_**

**_Anyway, hope you enjoy this, please leave a review with your thoughts! ;)_**

* * *

><p>12. AND SHE IS BACK<p>

"Lisbon," he breathes, concern clear in his expression.

"Jane," she counters, a small smile forming involuntarily on her lips as she looks at him. "Three-piece suit, you look like yourself again."

She moves away so he can come in, then closes the door behind her. He seems to be inspecting her to make sure she really is there, looking well, speaking to him. She feels relieved in his presence again, she now realizes how anxiously she has been waiting since they talked on the phone.

"I brought your bag," he comments. "I had to hide it before the police found it; they would find it odd that you had it with you if you hadn't had an accomplice to help you escape from prison."

"I bet they would," she grins, then goes serious. "I had no idea you'd really have your cell with you. Got lucky, I guess…"

"Are you okay?" he asks, completely serious for a moment, no games, no jokes, just worry.

"Yeah, I am," she answers quietly.

"Did you get hurt?"

"Just a small cut on the top of my head, didn't even need stitches."

"You had it checked?"

"Yes I did," she answers, scoffing.

"How?" he is somewhat perplexed, yet relieved.

"Well, I took a risk. I went to the emergency room. I figured if I had to run, I was running already, so…"

He nods, as though agreeing with something else, other than what she is actually saying.

"It's time for that to end," he states.

She looks up at him, in sudden panic.

"What do you think we should do?"

He cocks his head to the side; she knows what they have to do, she just does not want to think about it or about what it implies.

"We should go to Bertram."

Her answer is a wordless manifestation of fear and anxiety across her features.

"Think about it, Lisbon. The person we were trying to protect clearly doesn't need our protection."

She looks at him, with a pleading expression. Then shakes her head.

"I refuse to believe that."

He looks incredulous.

"Lisbon… he called the police and sent them straight to your motel room."

"There must be an explanation…"

"You could have _died_ because of what he did," he reminds her, with contained rage showing only in his clenched teeth.

At the mention of that, her lips start to tremble as she looks elsewhere, trying to hide from him.

"I'm sorry," he says, touching her face lightly for a moment.

She looks at him, fighting the tears with rage.

"No, you're right."

They stare at each other in silence for a moment, then he nods.

"So we go to Bertram."

"Yeah," she confirms, trying to look determined. "We go to Bertram. But how? How do I go back to Sacramento now?"

"I'm gonna reach out for some help," he announces, taking his cell phone from his vest pocket "Cho? Can you meet me somewhere? Bring the rest of the team. I've got something really important to talk to all of you about." He makes a pause. "Oh, and bring a pizza too, I'm suddenly very hungry."

Lisbon smiles while he gives Cho their location. He hangs up.

"If I know you, you haven't had anything to eat since… Last night? Before all this?"

She looks down, biting her lower lip, then looks at him again.

"I was quite close to missing you."

Jane smiles widely, and gives up restraining his impulse to take her into a hug. She just stays there, her face lying safely against his chest, her arms circling his waist. After a few minutes, he pulls away, cupping her face and taking a moment to acknowledge how relieved he is that he did not lose her. Then, without really thinking about what he is doing, he closes his eyes and kisses her on the lips.

* * *

><p><em>I do not know exactly what happened to me that night; I just know that, after <em>_the meeting with the team, I unthinkingly let them take me with them to the hotel where they had booked rooms for themselves and for me, but as soon as I found myself alone in a hotel room, I went right back to that moment when I had just lost my mind and kissed Lisbon._

_She had responded, slowly, but not hesitantly. It was just a moment of tenderness that we shared. A kiss, innocent like that. One that we did not talk about. One which we shared for a few moments, then she quietly slipped back to rest on my chest as I held her close, and like that we stayed until she said something that brought me back to reality._

"_They'll be here soon," she had said._

_And they did arrive soon. And the conversation with them distracted me; I needed to get the plan ready, to think it all through. But as soon as I found myself alone in a hotel room and I went back to that moment when we had kissed, I felt some kind of desperation. Like I missed her, like I missed her after not having seen her in years. I needed to be near her, and I needed it immediately._

_So I just left my hotel room and took one of the rental cars the team was using. I did not even think much about where I was going, I just drove in that direction and arrived at the motel, then knocked at her door. _

_At the sight of her, though, I knew exactly what I wanted. _

* * *

><p>They hear a vehement knock on the door.<p>

"Who's that?" Jane asks, as Lisbon goes into hiding.

"It's us," says Cho's firm voice.

Jane opens the door and his three colleagues come into the motel room. Cho holds a pizza, and Rigsby has a few bottles of beer. Grace smiles apprehensively.

"Hey guys, thanks for the pizza."

"So, what is it that you need to talk to us about away from the police station?" Cho gets right down to business.

"Oh, well…" Jane starts, straightening his clothes. "It's more like… who I need to talk to you about."

Rigsby and Van Pelt look confused, but Cho seems to know what is coming next. Jane turns his head towards the bathroom.

"You can come out now."

Lisbon walks in, hesitantly, knowing that, as soon as she comes out of the shadows, there will be three guns pointed at her. And that is exactly what happens. Jane, who was sitting on the bed, stands up with his hands in the air.

"Hey guys, there's no need for that. Put the guns down, let's sort this out without violence."

Obviously, they do not listen to Jane. If anything, they wonder if they should be pointing their guns at him too.

"Teresa Lisbon," Cho starts, "you are under arrest."

Lisbon does not move. She crosses her arms, looking at Cho with that look she gives her team members when she is unhappy about something. _And she is back_, Jane thinks to himself. Fragile, hesitant Lisbon is gone; the boss is back. Not only she is not guilty, but she is not a victim either.

"Put your guns down," she orders, and Jane can see the three faltering.

Van Pelt looks at him, confused.

"Why is she here? Why don't you want us to arrest her? She kidnapped you."

Jane shakes his head, quite impatiently.

"No, Grace," he says. "I was the one who helped her escape prison."

"Why would you do that?" Rigsby asks.

Jane shrugs.

"Think, Rigsby. What would be the only reason I'd do that?"

The three agents exchange looks among one another, then look at Lisbon again. A few seconds later, they all slowly lower their guns.

* * *

><p><em>Many times did I wake up during that night, all too aware that I was in Patrick Jane's arms and that I was enjoying it. He never let me go, his arms were around me through the night, in a firm grip, that made me feel safe, and wanted. That made me see a way out of my long accepted <em>_loneliness, the policy I had adopted with the purpose of protecting myself. I knew, though, that morning would come, with thoughts and fears, and, during those many moments when I woke up for a few seconds, I just wanted to cuddle closer to him and avoid the morning. I would avoid it until it eventually and fatally came. _

_And it did. _

_And when it did, I knew I had to slowly roll out of his embrace, as much as I did not want to, because I should want to. I should know that everyone I had ever cared about in life had eventually let me down and that the only way to be safe from that happening again was to never grow attached to anyone ever again. It was the code that I lived by. And just the morning before that one, I had been betrayed by one of the only people in the world I would swear would never do that to me. So yes, I had to roll out of his embrace, as much as I did not want to. _

_So I started moving, but he sensed it and held me closer. I almost gave up resisting then, but I remembered that he was Jane; I could not trust him like that. I knew he cared about me and that he would never do anything to harm me intentionally, he had proven as much. However, he was still after Red John and he would do anything for a chance to catch him and have his revenge. He would leave me for that chance. And I could not take that risk. I could not allow myself to become even more emotionally dependent on him than I already had become just in those few days._

_Actually, I had to find a way to stop that. It really was a good thing that we had told the whole truth to the team the day before and that we had a plan and that they would be there soon to fake my final arrest as part of it – and I hoped that at the end of that I would have been cleared and found out what the hell was going on, because I really needed my life back. I needed to go back to what I knew, maybe I would find myself lost there, somewhere. The one that could manage everything on her own, the one who could come up with a plan alone, that could decide what to do. Not this weak Teresa that I did not know. _

_That strong Teresa would never have allowed herself to sleep with Jane in the first place. But what she would do when she woke up, had she been weak, was to get up from that bed, take a shower and get dressed. And forget about that night. So that was what I would do; and I started with the hardest step. I rolled off of Jane's chest and out of his arms and got up from the bed, and did not look back. _

* * *

><p>"Did you kill Todd Johnson for them?" Lisbon asks.<p>

"Of course not!" Bertram answers, acting outraged.

"He's lying," Jane says to the microphone.

"Remember, Gale," Lisbon warns after standing up, "that you're under oath."

"All right, I did," he confesses, after sighing loudly. "But it was a necessary sacrifice; I needed to gain their trust!"

"What a son of a bitch," Rigsby mutters, and Van Pelt immediately shushes him.

Cho just sends them a dissatisfied look, and Jane is entirely focused on the screen through which they are watching the conversation.

"You keep saying they, who's they? Who exactly in Red John's organization have you been in contact with? And my unit is on the Red John case, why is it you never thought of mentioning any of this to us?"

"Ah, Lisbon," Bertram says while laughing. "You speak like you're still head of the Serious Crimes Unit!"

"Bastard!" Jane murmurs.

"Look around you!" he raises his voice. "You're inside a cell! I don't know how you managed to bring a gun…"

"Shhhhhhhhhhh!" she hisses, interrupting him, and points her gun to his face even more vehemently. "No screaming to alert the guards, you understand?"

"Nice one!" Rigsby cheers, laughing when Bertram asks Lisbon to lower her gun. "Look, he's all scared again!"

"I have nothing else to lose, Bertram," she is saying, after the director refuses to answer who he has been in contact with. "So I _will_ shoot if I have to."

"We already have his confession to the murder of Johnson, now we need him to clear you," Cho says to the microphone. "We can have the names later."

Jane throws him a quite dissatisfied look.

Lisbon ignores his instructions for a moment and asks about her brother. Cho sighs, but he admits she has a right to know. Bertram guarantees that Tommy has nothing to do with Red John.

"Why?" she asks then. "Why did you show me his pictures and have me pretend I was the mole and go through all this? Tell me the truth. It's Red John you're with, spying on us, isn't it? Not the other way around. You can tell me, it's just you, me, and my gun."

"What do you want me to say, you want me to congratulate you for finding it all out too late? Yes it was a trap. Yes, I knew putting your brother on the game would make you lose your judgment. That you would do anything to make sure he was all right. It was a trap to frame you, and you've been framed. It's over for you. And if you shoot me, it's even worse. Isn't it?"

"That's it!" Cho says, gun in hand, moving out of the room, followed by Rigsby and Van Pelt.

Jane stays behind, still watching the monitor, and jumps as Bertram suddenly manages to throw Lisbon to the floor. He rushes out of the room to alert Cho, then lets the team go first as he stands back, walking at a normal pace, hoping everything will work out but not having the actual courage to watch.


	13. Hello, Teresa

13. HELLO, TERESA

_I was speechless, and not many things in life make me speechless. __I did not know how to react to that. I had just woken up and it was like Lisbon had just knocked me unconscious again. I had not even had time to think about what had happened the night before, about what had made me do what I had done or about whatever might follow, and she had already dismissed any possibilities. Well, did she not know me by now? Did she not know that, to make me want something, all anybody had to do was to tell me that I could not have it? So, if she wanted me to forget about the previous night, then that was all I did not want to do._

_And it would have been difficult anyway. The moments we had spent together kept insistently coming back to me on their own, without me trying; I could still feel the memory of her skin in my fingertips, and her taste in the back of my mouth. And it certainly made me want more. She was addictive, no doubt about that. Since that kiss on the side of the road, something just kept pulling me to her, until the possibility of losing her had broken something loose inside of me, and I just knew that no closeness was close enough to her. _

_Many times during the night before had that string of words attempted to escape my lips again, "I love you," and I wondered if I really did love her. Those words did not just come out like that, and I knew that well, because, before that, I had only wanted to say them to one person. But there I was, eager to say them again, to say them to Lisbon. I debated whether I should have said them or not. Would it have affected her reaction in the morning?_

_I guessed I would never know. What I did know was that she should not be seen outside the room. It made me suddenly furious that she would leave just so she would not__ have to be in the same room with me. So I got up from the bed, put on my boxers and opened the door._

"_Come inside," I said to her, not waiting for her to turn around. "Don't be ridiculous. You shouldn't be out there."_

_I went straight to the bathroom for a shower before she came in, but I heard it as she did. She was infuriating! The shower helped clear my head though. Okay, I thought to myself. So I was in love with Lisbon. So much that absolutely nothing had stopped me last night from coming all the way to her motel room just to be with her, and so much that little had I been thinking about Red John or anything else since she had been arrested and had an accident and then contacted me saying she was well and giving me her whereabouts. _

_All right. With that acknowledged, I was able to think rationally for a moment; it was a typical Lisbon reaction to want to pretend nothing had happened on the morning after. That did not mean she would not come around eventually. I could tell, from the night before, that she felt something. I could not know for sure if she was in love with me, but I knew there was something, which was, actually, the only reason she would care enough to want to forget all about it in the first place. Still, this was a crazy time for her – and for me as well, so there was no reason to put any pressure on her. I would do as she said; I would not talk about it. I would not insist. When we went back home and to our normal lives, I would decide what to do. _

_It was also true that I had some thinking of my own to do. Just realizing I loved her was not enough for me to know what I should do about it. It was not a simple thing for me, having lost my family the way I had, and seeking revenge the way I was, to decide whether to pursue a relationship or not. Not only for my own sake, but hers as well. Even though my first reaction to her own reaction had been to fight for it, I had just come to realize that was not a simple matter like the ones we would usually banter over. _

_I got out of the bathroom, fully dressed, and found her standing. It was like she was staring at a crime scene and could not touch anything. I looked at her, and she looked back at me. We had a little staring contest. I engaged because I could never help things like that. Sh__e did to make a point, would be my guess; to show me she still maintained her decision. It was such an arrogant stare that it made me mad again. Why did she have to do it? I could have thrown her against the wall again to make _my_ point, but I had to be strong and resist that idea. Firstly because I had just decided to wait before I made any decisions regarding her. And secondly because the team would be there soon so we could follow through with our plan. _

_The pleasure and pride were unavoidable when she looked away, making me the winner of our contest. I realized then, however, how awkward things were between us. We had suddenly lost all that familiarity we had developed during our days as fugitives together. I could not help but feel a bit sad about it. However, for the sake of everything at stake at the moment, I figured the only palpable thing to do then was to agree with her; after all, I had to make her speak to me again, even if it were only the absolutely essential._

"_I think you're right," I said, and her head turned__ back in my direction immediately. "I think we should forget about… _you-know-what_, and go on with our lives as usual."_

_She was undoubtedly surprised, but, as soon as she seemed to have made sense of what I had just said, she nodded._

"_Good," she said, simply. "I'm glad you agree."_

_I nodded once, hoping she would not catch me in the lie. Well, even if she did, I was sure she was not going to point it out, not now, in our current situation. Suddenly, I was really anxious for the team to arrive and break the unavoidable, unbearable silence between us as we stood alone in that room._

* * *

><p>"Yes, it's over," Lisbon says to Bertram's face, only inches away from hers. "But not for me. For you, sir."<p>

"Oh really?" Bertram says, breathless as he holds her down. "How's that?"

That is when the door opens and Cho shows up.

"Step away from her!" he says, and Bertram throws a look towards the gun Lisbon has dropped on the floor.

"Don't even think about it," Van Pelt commands, kicking it away from him, her eyes burning with anger.

"Gale Bertram," Cho states, "you are under arrest for the murder of Todd Johnson. You have the right to remain silent…"

Van Pelt helps her former boss stand up and, before Lisbon can realize and consequently try to restrain herself, tears of relief start rolling down her face and sobs make her breathing uneven. The young agent looks her in the eyes, with an also relieved expression and a smile.

"You're free," she says, to which Lisbon responds with a nod, while crying.

She walks out of the holding cell while her team stays behind making the arrest. At the sight of the officer in the hallway her first instinct is to flinch and panic, but he nods at her and she smiles through her tears, feeling like her life is finally about to go back to normal. She just keeps walking, welcoming the growing sensation of freedom inside her. Van Pelt's obvious phrase keeps repeating in her head, each time sounding just a tiny bit less surreal.

She stops in front of the elevator, not sure where she is going. What happens now? Is she an employee of CBI again? Which floor will she go to? The elevator is coming down, and when it arrives and its doors open, they reveal Patrick Jane, and he is looking at her. He does not smile as he usually would, but he looks relieved as well. She enters the elevator convinced to let this one decision for him to make, just this one last time. He pushes a button, she does not even see which, then approaches her slowly. Looking into his enigmatic eyes, she closes hers and the distance between them and takes cover in his arms. He holds her, how could he not. He holds her close, as they both embrace the relief they feel. Her sobs are muffled into his chest, as is his sigh into her hair.

When the elevator doors open again, they pull away from each other just as silently, but Jane takes her hand in order to lead her where he really wants to take her. She nostalgically recognizes the surroundings of the Serious Crimes floor, but Jane wants to take her away before anybody can see her; nobody knows she has been cleared yet. He wants her to wait for the whole repercussion of what has just happened in a safe place. They go up the stairs leading to his attic, then enter it. The sunshine coming into the room makes Lisbon squint. Her mind is racing.

"I'm free," she risks saying out loud, looking distractedly out the window into the streets of downtown Sacramento, her back turned to him.

"Yes, you are," he replied. "Soon enough you'll be reinstated and will be able to return to your office in safety, I'm sure."

His words affect her in an unexpected way. She suddenly feels a freedom that is bigger than not being wanted for murder, bigger than having gotten rid of the charges. She suddenly feels that she could do anything. That this is a moment when she could change her life, change absolutely everything about it. Not that she wants to, but instead of longing for her old life back like she had been not long before now, the sight of the streets and the knowledge that she can walk through them as a free woman again bring the refreshing perspective that she does not necessarily need to go back to that.

"I don't know if that's what I want," she says.

Jane thinks he heard wrong.

"If what's what you want?" he asks.

"Being reinstated," she clarifies, turning around to face him. "Having my office back."

He has absolutely no answer to that, because he has never considered the possibility of ever hearing anything of the sort coming from her. For all he knows, that job is her life. He wants to ask, he wants her to explain, to relieve the angst he suddenly feels before the possibility of her actually leaving the CBI and disappearing from his life. But he tries to calm himself down, thinking that maybe that is a reaction coming from someone who finally feels like she can be free again, and who therefore wants no strings attached at the moment. Maybe that is what this is all about. So he tries hard to pay no mind to her words.

Lisbon can see Jane's mind at work, probably trying to interpret the words she has just said – as is her own mind. She is not sure what she means yet, and, actually, she is not sure of anything anymore. As they stare at each other, though, she feels suddenly more grateful towards him than ever. But she does not want to talk to him about it, or anything else, if she is being very honest, because she has to think properly about what has happened between them before she can decide where she stands around him. She figures she needs some distance from him, for everything, and that she could use some more private surroundings to do so.

"I think I wanna go home," she announces, and starts walking towards the exit.

"Wait," Jane pleads, hoping the desperation has not been printed into his voice.

She faces him again, and he swallows, trying to form a sentence in his mind. Suddenly, he needs to ask her something, because he fears terribly that, once she walks through that door, he will not see her for a while.

"Why did you say what we had was a mistake? What made you say that?"

He is sure he could come up with a lot of reasons himself as to why the night they spent together could be considered a mistake, but, at the moment, he needs to hear her reasons. She sighs, because she really wishes she did not have to talk about this right now.

"Jane… Could we talk some other time?"

"No," he says, noticing the urgency in his own voice. "Now."

* * *

><p><em>Jane had done me the favor of driving me home. <em>_We did not say anything as he drove, a terribly awkward silence between us. When we got there, I did not invite him in, nor did he invite himself. He just stopped the car, and I just thanked him. When I was getting out, he warned me that the apartment was quite messy from having been searched. I nodded and left, knowing it would be unpleasant to know that my belongings had been messed with while my own team and other officers had been looking for evidence that could incriminate me. But as soon as I opened the door and entered the apartment, even though I did feel somewhat bothered by that, I was _home_. And the feeling of being home was something that I just could not describe. It even made it difficult to believe all of that had really happened. _

_I went directly for my bottle of tequila and had a few shots, which helped me to relax. Then, I went upstairs and took a long bath. Even the feeling of the water from my own shower against my skin was comforting. After the shower, I put on a robe and went to bed. I just felt like sleeping for days, for as many days as I could before I woke up. And my bed, _my bed_, it felt like heaven. I held my pillow with both arms and closed my eyes, with a contented smile on my face. _

"_Hello, Teresa," I murmured. "It's been a long time!"_

_When I opened my eyes again, I did not have the faintest idea for how long I had been asleep, but I could tell by looking at the window that it was dark outside. As it turns out, it was already the evening of the following day, and I felt very hungry. I ordered some pizza, put some music to play and started cleaning up the apartment. I felt incredibly energetic, and by the time the pizza arrived, I was practically finished. I ate while watching one of my favorite TV shows, which I had not watched in so long, and while drinking a glass of wine. I still could not believe that nightmare was over. _

_A nightmare because I was all the time worried, wondering if Tommy was okay, or afraid of being caught. But then, I had to admit, or maybe it was the wine talking, I had had quite some fun. With Jane. Suddenly, the thought of him made me feel something ache almost imperceptibly in my chest. I was suddenly aware that I missed him; that I missed spending each and every second of every day with him, even if I could not understand why exactly. Then something was made clear in my mind: I had to see him._

_When I was about to go upstairs to change my clothes, however, the door bell rang. Could it be him? I would have to congratulate him on reading my mind. I walked towards the door and opened it without looking through the peephole. I should have._

"_Hey," Tommy said, looking at me with the same guilty expression he had always worn when he did something wrong. _

* * *

><p><em><strong>Author's Note:<strong>_ At this point, I can't be exactly sure about how many chapters are left, but we are close to the end. I can't be sure because I have been having problems figuring out that ending. I'd like to ask for everyone's patience if it takes me a little longer than usual to update next time, even though I hope it won't. I hope you have enjoyed this chapter, please let me know what you think. :)_  
><em>


	14. Answers

14. ANSWERS

Lisbon sighs, placing carefully a strand of her hair behind her ear as she looks down, so as to give her time to formulate a response. She can feel Jane's eyes on her as he waits for her to say anything. She lifts her face and his eyes are watching hers, not missing a blink. She takes in a deep breath.

"Well Jane," she starts, "first of all, we work together."

"That is no excuse," he dismisses quickly. "Besides, didn't you just say you're not sure you still want to work at the CBI?"

She frowns, hating to have been caught by her own trap; she would really rather not have this conversation now, she is not sure of anything, how can she make any definitive statements about what she wants to do next? Why can he not accept the easy answer, if only for the moment?

"I want your true reasons," he demands, as though answering her inner questions. "What you were thinking about when you said that and left the room."

Besides the frustration she feels due to his non-acceptance of her answer, she is now suddenly irritated. How come he cannot see? Is he not the one who can read anybody so easily – especially her – and tell exactly what they are thinking and why? She decides to say what is on her mind, regardless of the consequences.

"Well, Jane, you just need to think a little bit about it. Everyone I have ever cared about has let me down. That's why I can't care about anybody too much. That's why it was a mistake to get too close to you."

"That's it?" he asks, hands on his hips, incredulity on his expression.

"That's it," she confirms, not quite believing his reaction. "You think it's not good reason enough?"

"No, I just think you're playing the victim there," he retorts, clearly frustrated.

"Excuse me?" she raises her voice a little bit, taking a step towards him. "Did you just say what I think you did?"

"I think you find it easier to isolate yourself and use that as an excuse for everything," he explains.

"I'm the one to isolate myself?" she asks with exasperation. "Seriously, Jane?"

He swallows, all too aware that he has isolated himself quite a lot before.

"I've had my reasons," he justifies.

"And I have mine!"

"Yours aren't legitimate!" he retorts, to her absolute outrage.

"What?" she hisses. "What? And yours are? What are they again? Everyone that gets close to you becomes harmed in some way? That's your legitimate excuse?"

Jane nods intently, as she stares back at him, shaking her head slowly, disapprovingly. A long moment of silence follows. Lisbon realizes that there really is not much thinking to do. The questions are answered for them. She takes another step towards him, standing now quite close to him, and, when she speaks, she uses a lower, softer tone, even though her words are not as soothing.

"Look, Jane… Do me a favor and tell me… do you think that was _not_ a mistake? What do you want from me? Do you want to start a relationship? What happened to the danger of being harmed just because I'm close to you? What happened to revenge being your priority? Answer these and I'll tell you whatever you want."

He stares at her. She is right. He does not have an answer, not one that he would give her, anyway; he has impulsive answers. No, it was not a mistake. Yes, he wants a relationship with her. But he cannot not give her those, because he cannot promise to give up on his revenge, or promise that she will not be harmed because of him. He cannot swear that he will be able to protect her, both physically and emotionally.

As she is staring into his eyes, he has the unfamiliar and unpleasant sensation that she can read his mind. He hates the irony of it.

"You don't have an answer that covers it all, do you?" she smiles, sadly, shaking her head once again. "Well, neither do I. So don't demand answers from me. I don't think there's an answer for us, Jane. Not one that doesn't include ignoring whatever happened and moving on from it."

She walks towards the door again, not looking back.

"I'll give you a ride," he says, in a throaty voice, deliberately avoiding her eyes.

* * *

><p><em>Lisbon was right. I had no answer to give her. <em>_I could not guarantee that, by being involved with me, she would not become Red John's target – in fact, what had happened was proof that she already was his target; that he and his organization already knew the importance she had to me. Maybe they had even known better than me how important she was. I was more certain than ever that Red John's plan had been to have me engage in an escape with her, only to have her end up killed because of me. And, if we both came out of that alive, I would know just how important she was to me and I would have something else to lose that he could try to take from me whenever he pleased._

_And that was torture. _

_Because, if I chose not to be with her after acknowledging my feelings, I would suffer, especially having to work with her day after day. And if I started a relationship, I would live under the constant fear that he might come and take her from me, just like he had done before, leaving me with nothing again. And that was the worst way to finish me off, because I could not take another blow like the one eight years before that. I would probably end up losing my mind for good, or begging him to just kill me. _

_Lisbon was right, there really was no answer to our situation. I loved her, and maybe she loved me, but there was no better option for us. We would have to go with whatever seemed less horrible. But of course, she had her own decisions to make. About what she would do with her life from now on, for example. I remembered her telling me that she did not know how much she still wanted to be in CBI anymore, and after the panic that had hit me then passed, and after all the thinking about Red John's intentions upon coming up with his plan, I thought that maybe quitting the CBI and staying the hell away from me really was the best option anyone could think of. I would still be left suffering, missing her, but she would be safe somewhere, going on with her life. _

_I had only just concluded that thought and decided that, when I saw Lisbon again, I would advise her to really leave the CBI, when I heard a knock on the door. _

* * *

><p>"What the hell are you doing here?" she asks, her heart racing with anger.<p>

"I needed to see you," Tommy replies, entering the apartment without waiting for an invitation. "I had to explain things to you."

"How long have you been in Sacramento?" she is still flabbergasted that she is speaking to her brother; that he is standing in front of her, in her apartment.

"A few days, hiding. The police wanted to question me, I freaked out. I came here because I knew they'd bring you here, and I had to explain to you."

"Explain what? That you have traded everything I ever taught you for a few dollar bills? Like you'd done before? What do you expect from me? To forgive you again just so you can do it again with a clear conscience?"

"I didn't do this with a clear conscience," he protests. "It's killing me, you have to believe me."

"It's killing _me_," she retorts, a hand to her chest. "It's killing _me_ to know that everything I've done for you was in vain, that all we've been through has taught you nothing."

"It was not in vain!" he digs both hands into his curly hair, his eyes narrowed with tears shining inside. "It's just not that easy to be as right and as perfect as you!"

She is absolutely enraged, shaking her head. She feels like slapping some sense into him. It feels like one of those conversations after she was called to speak to the principal of the school. He had always used the excuse that she was too perfect for him to try to be as good a person as her. It had always been infuriating.

"There's no such thing as being perfect," she says, for what feels like the thousandth time. "If everyone became a criminal because they can't be perfect, then we'd all be damned to hell!"

"You have to forgive me," he pleads, taking her hands into his. "I can't live with myself after what I did."

She looks down at their hands together, with something similar to disgust in her eyes. It is so easy for her to believe his pleas and forgive him, because it is in her nature to try to see the best in him or her other brothers; it was always more soothing to believe they would not do anything wrong again. But this is a whole different case, she reminds herself. Tommy is an adult now, and the reason she is fighting with him is not as simple as the reasons she had at the time when she would receive calls from the principal.

She removes her hands from his.

"Maybe I can forgive you someday," she says, looking down at first but then finding the courage to look into his eyes. "But, right now, you need to pay for your mistakes. I am done enabling you, Tommy, and telling you everything will be all right afterwards."

"But I really regret what I've done," he insists, "you have to believe me."

"Then prove to me that you regret it by turning yourself in," she challenges. "You need to be held for questioning, because I really don't know that I can trust you anymore."

He hesitates, then he catches a glimpse of a picture of him and his two brothers that she keeps on her desk. That sends those tears slowly down his cheeks.

"I will," he promises. "You can make the call, and tell them to come pick me up."

* * *

><p><em>I called Cho and he was luckily working the night shift. He came in person to take Tommy in. <em>_He gave me a comforting nod and I responded with a thankful one. Cho really was a good friend and it was good to see his concern and his admiration for me back in his eyes instead of that heart-shattering disappointment I had seen when he had tried to question me. He left with Tommy, and I cried with guilt. Guilt of having turned my own little brother in. I knew he had to be questioned and punished for whatever mistakes he had made, but that did not cancel the worry of imagining him sleeping that night in a cell. _

_Feeling weird and restless, I went back to the original plan of getting dressed to go see Jane. After Tommy's visit, I felt all the more in need of company. His company. I had not yet thought as much as I had meant to about what had happened between us and about what I wanted to do with my life in general, but nothing right now could tell me not to go see him. I just felt like I had to. As I drove, though, I thought that moment was as good as any to try to think. _

_Okay, so there was nothing else I was sure about; only that I needed to see Jane, to be around him. That should mean something, right? And right about then I had to fight the urges to suppress the possible answers to that question, because it was my mind's instinct to try not to investigate what could be the reasons for my sudden need to see him. I tried not to suppress those thoughts now; I really had to think this through. Before, I had thought that I was depending on him because of the situation I was in, because he had been the one to make the decisions when I could not. However, right now, I was safe, and Tommy was safe, and I did not have to run or hide from anybody anymore. So why did I still need him?_

_Another question I had been trying to avoid asking myself was why I had not stopped him when he had come to my room to make love to me. The truth that I had not wanted to hear from myself before was that I had wanted that as much as he had. So yes, there was no doubt that I was attracted to Jane – I had sort of acknowledged that before, when I thought there was no chance I would ever have to decide whether to act on it or not. And there was also this inexplicable need for him. So, all right, I had already been in love before; I knew the feeling. It was right before my eyes, how had I been able to avoid seeing it for so long? I certainly knew _why_ though._

_Having seen all my previous attempts towards the maintenance of a romantic relationship fail, I had learned to avoid the realization, because, in my experience, it was always from the moment when you realized and acknowledged to yourself that you were in love with someone that you just could not avoid the need for them. So maybe I had already realized and acknowledged my feelings for Jane, even if only unconsciously, when I had decided to get dressed and go see him, because, right now, I did not care whether he had answers to give me regarding Red John or revenge or anything. Answers were not what I was looking for. I just longed to see him, look him in the eyes and have him look back into mine. I loved him, and I missed him. _

_I drove to his motel, and when I recognized his blue Citroën parked outside – it was nice to see it again after we had abandoned it in the very beginning of our escape – I knew he was in. I felt like an idiot as I felt those typical symptoms; my cheeks blushing, knees shaking, butterflies messing with my stomach. Was I going to feel like that every time I saw him now? I smiled in a probably very stupid way to myself, because fools in love always enjoy themselves, like they are high on something, high on love. I bit my lip to suppress my smile and concentrated on the task at hand; I knocked on the door. _


	15. Like a fool

**_I just realized that I haven't yet thanked the people who have reviewed without logging in, because I couldn't PM them obviously. Anyway, I'd like to thank them now, for reading, for taking the time to write a review and for the kind words! Thanks a lot: Flora, J.L, Kuhlama, jas, Anna, klopsel, jasadin. Thank you also to the people who tell me what they think of RO outside FFNet, like by twitter. And once again thank you Madam Spooky, for reading beforehand, for being spoiled unintentionally and not minding it, and for naming my muse. _**

* * *

><p>15. LIKE A FOOL<p>

As Jane hears a quiet knock at his motel room's door, he feels his heart involuntarily flutter. He has been, deep down, expecting Lisbon to come see him, because that would serve as some kind of proof that she felt something for him, that she missed him, even though he knows he should not entertain those kind of thoughts, not after the decision he has made. If he is being honest, he has not been thinking about much during the last few days besides her; even the fact that Red John seems to have once again slipped through his fingers has not been getting the usual space among his thoughts. However, after all the egotistical things he has done in his life and their horrible consequences, he has to stick to his decision, because, even if it might make her suffer now, it might spare her life in the end. And he would be free to chase Red John and exact his revenge.

So, when he gets up from the bed, where he was already lying to contemplate another probably sleepless night, and as he approaches the door to answer it, he desperately wants the visitor to both be Lisbon and be anyone but. He checks who it is, and his heart is equally happy and sad when he recognizes her familiar, stunningly beautiful figure. He opens the door, wondering what his expression looks like, even though he is putting all his effort into his best poker face.

"Hello, Lisbon," he says, simply, with a small, peaceful smile to conceal all the confusion in his mind at the moment.

"Hello, Jane," she says smiling timidly back. She looks refreshed, rested. And he cannot help noticing she is wearing a little make up, which he likes to think was put on especially for him. Even though he cannot, of course, have such thoughts, he reminds himself once more.

"Enjoying your... vacation of sorts?" he asks, to make conversation.

She grins, looking down. Just the sight of him can practically send all the worry and sadness over Tommy away. Lisbon tries to remember exactly when his power of making her feel better has started to manifest.

"Yes, I am," she replies, then looks deeply into his eyes. "Are you gonna let me in?"

He blushes, scoffing, and that is probably the first time she has ever seen him blush; he is very embarrassed, almost as embarrassed as he had been after that kiss by the road, and Lisbon just finds it priceless that she can make him feel this way, so much that he cannot even hide it.

"Of course I will," he says, avoiding her eyes carefully, and moving away from the door as he awkwardly gestures for her to come in. "Please."

He is thinking, as she makes her entrance, making sure to brush against him lightly, making it possible for him to catch her scent, that he needs to get a hold on himself; to regain control. Never, since Angela, has a woman had this power over him, the power to make him lose control, to make him forget what he has to do and why, to make him just want to drop everything and take her into his arms. She turns around to face him when he has already closed the door.

"How are you?" she asks, smirking a little bit at her effect on him, and it makes him want so much to start that little game with her. But he has to regain control.

"I'm good," he answers, smiling at first, but then he reminds himself once more of everything and wipes the smile right off.

"Tommy was arrested," she says, a completely different expression now, games completely forgotten.

This catches him completely off guard.

"When?" he asks with urgency.

"Just now, before I came. He came to my apartment."

Surprised turns into concern on his face.

"He's here?" he wants to know. "What did he want, what did he do?"

"He said he was sorry and that he regretted what he had done. I told him that he had to turn himself in to prove to me he was telling the truth, and he agreed. Cho took him."

"Meh," Jane waves his head quickly, clearly doubting the veracity of her brother's intentions.

"Anyway," she says, taking a step towards him, "even though I'm still worried about him in prison, I feel relieved, because now I know where he is, and I know we'll find out if he was more involved with all this than we thought he was, and he'll pay for what he's done accordingly."

Jane nods, avoiding her eyes, clearly uncomfortable with the proximity.

"Thanks for telling me," he says, politely, and sort of directs himself towards the door, as if wishing to end the visit.

"That's not all I came to say," she protests, attracting his eyes to hers again. "I wanted to see you even before he showed up."

Jane sighs, knowing this is going to be difficult, but then he also feels a hint of irritation. Of course; when he has just decided he wants her to move on from him and even leave the CBI, she has decided for the opposite and now she is the one who does not want to give up on whatever there is or there could be between them. How ironic is that? He wonders if they will ever agree about anything, and he is unable to decide whether the thought makes him want to smile or frown.

"To tell me if you decided whether to leave the CBI or not?" he rushes to ask, not exactly sure about which answer he expects to hear.

She hesitates; on her way here, she forgot to make that little decision. She only acknowledged her feelings for Jane – and after that, as she had predicted, nothing else mattered. Typical behavior of falling in love. And the worst is she wants to laugh about it, like a fool. She notices she is, indeed, smiling.

"To be honest, I haven't thought about that yet."

Jane wants to smile too, and cup her face, and pull her into his chest, but he cannot do that. For her own safety, he reminds himself, as a little _why?_ seems to echo somewhere in the back of his mind.

"I have," he says, and when she lifts her face to look at him, he has an awfully serious expression. "And I think that's what you need."

There is a moment of a very heavy, unpleasant silence as Lisbon tries to figure out what he means.

"Leaving the CBI, I mean," he fills in, impatient at waiting for her to do the math. "I'm sure you could get as good a job as this one, in law enforcement or not. Or even better. You really could do whatever you want with your life from now on."

She just stares at him, without a reply to give him, and it is heart-breaking to see her so lost for words, so unsure of what to do, of where to look at, of anything.

"I've been thinking a lot," he continues, "and the more I think, the more I realize you're right; what happened between us _was_ a mistake. We were in a difficult, scary, desperate situation, always unsure and afraid of what might happen next. And all of it only happened because you're on this case. The best thing for you really is quitting your job in the CBI, staying away from me and this case forever. Set yourself free, Lisbon."

Now it is his turn to approach her.

"You have done all you could for this job; you have given everything you had. And when you needed them to trust you, they turned their backs on you. Everyone."

"I was acting," she protests. "I intended for them to believe it."

"Did you?" he asks, with a crooked smile. "Or did you secretly expect them to know that _you_ would never do something like that; that you would never become one of Red John's accomplices? Or did you secretly wish that they would show up at a certain point, when we were running, and save you, and end that horrible nightmare for you?"

This is good old Jane, trying to play games with her, to get to her for who knows what reason. He is not the man who helped her out of prison anymore, just because he could not leave her there; he now wants to make her want to leave. But why? He takes another step towards her, and as he stares intently into her eyes, his voice grows lower when he speaks.

"Didn't you expect them to have just a little bit more faith in you?"

That makes her eyes water ever so slightly, but she is determined not to let him convince her. She puts her hand on his shoulder.

"You did," she argues. "You had faith in me, and you helped me."

Jane falters, though for no longer than half a second.

"I did it to find the real mole. And to try to find another of his assets. This case is my life; I can't leave it. But you can. And you should."

"I don't want to," she retorts. "I want to catch him too. I want to help you."

"I'm not your responsibility," he shrugs dryly, taking a step away from her to let her hand drop from his shoulder. "Don't worry about me, I'll be perfectly fine without you. I'll be even better, trust me, not worrying if you're in his way. Or mine."

Lisbon is lost. What has changed everything all of a sudden?

"Why?" she manages to say out loud. "What happened to the guy who didn't think that night was a mistake? Who wanted to see me back in my office?"

He swallowed, slowly, and forced a smile.

"You opened my eyes," he says, nodding confidently. Then, he shakes his head. "It would have never worked, you know that."

He tries to convey that certainty through the gaze he is throwing at her. One that cruelly leaves her no chance. It is unfair and evil to prey on her fear of being rejected or let down, but he has to do it if it makes her leave, if it keeps her safe. She nods, pressing her lips together in a clear effort to keep tears from coming out. Without another word, she heads for the exit and leaves, making sure to slam the door behind her. Jane sighs, struggling to keep himself from going after her. It is for her own good, he reminds himself repeatedly.

* * *

><p><em>I felt like an idiot<em>_. It had started to rain, so I ran to my car, in the rain, like a fool. I sat there, alone, in the dark, crying, like a fool. I had not even had a chance to tell him what I had meant to. The son of a bitch. What a choice had I made, huh? After all those years avoiding falling in love with anybody, I had allowed myself to fall for the worst man possible. Those days had been an illusion; the Jane that cared about me, that made me feel safe, that told me the truth, was gone. The real Jane, the heartless, cold, arrogant son of a bitch was back. And why in hell was I surprised?_

_The sound of my sobs was unnerving, but I could not make myself stop. I was a teenager again, and I had been heart-broken again, by the cutest guy in school, the one who barely acknowledged my existence, and had only pretended he wanted to be friends so I would help him study for a test. After that, he could not even grant me a hello. I hated to feel this stupid, I always had. That was why I liked to think I was above all that, I did not need to be in love with a man to be happy. I was the one who blew them off, not the other way around. _

_I hated Jane so much right now that I really, really wanted to leave the CBI. And the venom he had injected into me was spreading, and helping that feeling. He knew me all too well, the jackass. He knew I had been expecting the team to be looking for evidence of my innocence, instead of chasing me like a real criminal. He knew I had been disappointed that the agency where I had been a dedicated officer for so many years had not hesitated before labeling me a murderer, a mole connected to the most horrible of serial killers ever chased by the bureau. _

_My sobs were starting to calm down, so I could stop for a moment just to stare at the patterns being drawn on the windshield by the raindrops as they fell and connected to other drops, slowly forming small streams that rolled down towards the bonnet. The sound was faint as the water drizzled against the hood of the car, and even though I could hear it, it all just felt so silent. The whole image transported me directly back to that night when my own team had come to my apartment to arrest me. I could still remember the hurtful, disgusted looks on Cho and Van Pelt's faces, reflected on the rearview mirror, which I had avoided, looking at the raindrops instead. _

_I let a few more painful tears out, realizing I had not yet cried enough for all that had happened to me during the last few days. Suddenly, the idea of a new start with a clean slate seemed more and more like the perfect idea. Especially if going back to the CBI meant having to see Jane every day, and remember that the man I loved had only existed during a time lapse, a parallel universe, a wrinkle in reality. Maybe all I had been through had been exactly what I needed to reconsider everything in my life. Was this exactly where I wanted to be? Was this the future I had always dreamed of for me when I was a kid stuck with three brothers, counting the years to be free to do what I wanted? Was that what I had wanted to be doing?_

_No longer crying, I lay back against the seat, contemplating everything at once; looking at my life from outside, analyzing every little aspect, each and every person I had ever met, each and every possibility. I had many. That feeling at Jane's attic, that I could do anything and go anywhere, came back to me then, strikingly powerful this time, and I do not think I had ever scrutinized my choices from the past and the ones lying ahead of me in so much detail before. I even lost track of time as I sat there, thinking, and when I realized, I had been sitting there for almost one and a half hours._

_By then, I had already made my decision. I knew exactly what I wanted to do. _


	16. Home

**_Well, this is the last chapter. I really hope the ending is satisfying to read, it was sure satisfying to write. _**

**_I would like to thank everyone who has read, reviewed, favorited, alerted, told me they liked it on twitter or tumblr... Thank you all so much! :)  
>A special thanks goes to Madam Spooky for her help throughout the writing of this fic.<br>_**

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><p>16. HOME<p>

Today, as dusk approaches, the parking lot of the CBI headquarters holds an event that is not at all ordinary; if the agents working for the bureau remember correctly, nothing of the kind has ever happened before. A small stage has been built and decorated with the colors of the California flag, which hangs proudly behind a pulpit, next to the flag of the United States of America, and all the people who work in the building are gathered before that stage. It is a simple ceremony, but J.J. LaRoche and the new director, Carl McGorman, wanted to give it the due prominence. Given the current failures, the only thing left for the agency to do is to recognize and try to correct the faults that they can, in hopes of achieving more success in the future.

These failures include the wrongful conviction of two of their own best agents as participating in Red John's organization, LaRoche recalls bitterly, as well as the loss of a key figure in solving the case – Gale Bertram had been shot by an unidentified sniper on his way to the penitentiary, and died instantly, as well as the escorting officers. Not to mention the fact that there had really been a mole inside the bureau the whole time, and they had not been able to identify him correctly in time to prevent their two agents of being suspected of and chased after.

Without addressing anything in detail, the new director starts speaking, telling his co-workers in the audience that the agency has had to deal with many wrong steps along the way, but that the things that could be repaired should be repaired, and that is what this simple, informal ceremony is all about. He then announces he would like to call Madeleine Hightower, now cleared of all charges, to come up on stage so she can receive back her badge and earn back the title of Special Agent with the CBI. She has tears in her eyes and, as she attaches the badge to her belt, she waves thankfully at the agents of the Serious Crimes Unit; Wayne Rigsby, Grace Van Pelt, Kimball Cho. As well as their consultant, Patrick Jane, of course. They had all testified and provided proof to clear her.

"Thank you so much for choosing to continue with us, Agent Hightower," director McGorman says to the microphone, but looking at her.

"Thanks for having me back," is all she says, her voice cracking.

The whole audience applauds Hightower's readmission. LaRoche invites her to stand between the director and him as pictures are taken. As the applause decreases until it gradually gives way to silence, and as the pictures cease, the employees take that as a cue to start leaving, going back to their business. However, they all stand still in place as the director approaches the pulpit again.

"And now we'd like to call Ms. Teresa Lisbon."

Like Hightower, Lisbon ascends from a set of stairs in the back of the stage until she joins the new director and Agents LaRoche and the newly reinstated Hightower. She also receives from McGorman her badge back, and, as she holds it in her hand, after nodding to the words of reinstatement and congratulation, she realizes the weight of that badge in her life, the importance of that job and that career. She knows, then, that she has made the right decision.

McGorman thanks her for staying in a similar fashion as he has just done with Hightower, but Lisbon's answer is a simple yet emotionally charged nod as she shakes his hand. The audience now applauds her, and she recognizes many familiar faces until she finds the ones belonging to her team, the ones who clap the loudest and proudest, huge smiles on their faces. Except for one face, and her own smile falters a little at the sight of Jane. She can see a clear hint of sadness in his eyes as he claps out of obligation. At first, he looks back into her eyes, but then, he looks away, probably in an attempt not to spoil her moment.

As the ceremony is officially over, the employees receive each a glass of champagne. The two agents come down from the stage to be greeted and welcomed back by their colleagues. Lisbon smiles at everyone but does not try to hide the fact that she is heading for her team members. The first one she reaches is Van Pelt, who squeezes her into a hug. Then, Rigsby wants to shake her hand, but she throws her arms around his neck, even though she has to stand on the tip of her toes to do that, and he tightens his grip around her.

"Welcome back, boss," he says, blushing.

Cho gives her a quick yet assuring hug, patting her back proudly.

"Welcome back," he says.

She finally reaches Jane, and he does not look like he is going to give her a hug, or even a handshake. He just contemplates her, looking at the badge affixed to her belt, then nods.

"I knew asking you to leave would be useless," he says.

She nods, and her nod is telling him he really should have known.

"Then why _did_ you ask?" she suddenly wants to know.

"I guess I had to try," is his simple and not so revealing answer.

She knows why anyway, though.

"Welcome back and congratulations," he says, politely, proposing a toast with his untouched glass of champagne.

"Thanks," she replies, touching his glass with hers then drinking from it.

She is thinking about the worries and fears and plans and hopes going through both of their minds right now. She is thinking about Red John and all the influence he still has in their lives, and it only makes her want to catch him more. The son of a bitch might have escaped again this time, but it would not be like that forever. Jane is thinking the same thing, she can tell, and they both know there will be a time when a lot will be at stake and choices will have to be made and many outcomes will be possible. Lisbon is silently hoping that all of it happens in the best way possible and that, when the time comes, she can make the right decisions.

She takes a step towards Jane, who is looking down, making him look up at her again as she slightly invades his personal space. He now has a wide smile, so she guesses his little mourning over her reinstatement is over. Even though there is still a lot to worry about, she cannot avoid the hope she experiences right now, the feeling that everything is finally falling into place; she has her job back, it has been proven that Tommy never had any connection to Red John prior to that and he has been released in parole, and she has Jane and her team on her side again. He silently takes her hand in his, never breaking eye contact, and holds it for a while as they drink silently, secretly hoping that the future cannot touch their present, and that they can always be the way they are now.

* * *

><p>Jane sighs, looking through the thin line between the blinds covering the window. It rains heavier now, the loud sound of the raindrops touching everything, but he waits for the knocks on the door, and when they come, he can hear them clearly above all other sounds. He walks slowly, wishing this could be already over. He reluctantly opens the door to reveal her, her hair wet, her face swollen from having cried. He wants to give her a hug, to protect her in his arms, but he does not. He cannot do that.<p>

"Why did you come back?" he asks, grimacing.

"I never left. But you knew that," she asserts, making her way into the room. "You were watching me sitting in my car the whole time, weren't you?"

"No, I was in bed…" he attempts, even though he knows his acting is very poor right now.

"Don't you lie to me!" she says in a commanding voice.

Jane shakes his head tiredly. He cannot do this anymore tonight.

"Lisbon, go home…" he pleads.

"Let's cut the crap, okay? I belong here. In the CBI, and with you. What I came here to tell you and you never let me is that…" She hesitates for only a second. "I'll say it, all right? I love you. I do. And I'm not going anywhere because I think you love me too."

Jane sighs, shaking his head slowly, but letting a crooked smile escape at seeing her read him so well and fight her fears by telling him how she feels. His heart fills with warmth and happiness, and his mind with worry and guilt.

"You asked me if you could make me yours, and I let you," Lisbon points out, lowering her voice. "You can't take that back."

Jane's lack of control that night comes back to him now, and he remembers how much he had meant that; he had wanted so badly to make her his then. As he does now.

"You only tried to make me go away because of that crap that I might be Red John's next target, right?" she continues. "That crap that I reminded you about, I know. But I don't give a shit about that anymore. I don't care. Because I can take care of myself, I am a cop and I will catch this son of a bitch. When the chance comes and we have to fight about who gets to him first, we'll decide what to do. We can deal with all of that later."

He smiles at her language, and at how simple it all sounds in her words.

"Tell me I'm right," she demands. "For all the times I had to admit you were right, just this once, admit that _I'm_ right."

It takes him quite a few seconds staring into her eyes until he finally nods, slowly.

"You are. You really are." He makes a pause, and then, surprisingly smiles. "But I don't like it."

"Don't like what?" she asks cautiously.

"That you're the one reading me and I'm the one admitting you're right," he explains, in a matter-of-fact tone. "I don't like that at all."

A huge smile – and Jane could swear, a relieved one – forms in Lisbon's lips.

"See, now you know what it feels like."

He sighs, with a sad smile.

"So you're not leaving the CBI." It is not a question.

"No, I'm not," she shakes her head vehemently.

Jane nods. There is no point in trying to stay away from her anymore then. Red John knows how important she is for him and has already made her his target. If she is staying in the CBI, then there is nothing else he can do. He feels suddenly extremely regretful and disgusted with himself and his attempts at making her leave. He strokes her face lightly for a moment, and she welcomes his touch without hesitation.

"Lisbon, I'm sorry," he whispers.

"Ssssshhhh," she waves her hand, walking away from him.

There is a pause, and Jane notices she is paying attention to the walls, void of any pictures, to the impersonal furniture, the scattered bags always kept packed, and the half-messy bed where he had been lying before. She is actually looking for something to say, because, now that she has told him what she came here to tell him, she cannot think of what to say next. She waits for him to say something, but he seems just as lost for words at the moment. She decides to make small talk then, because the silence is growing awkward.

"Don't you ever feel like having a place?" she chooses to say. "You know, to call home?"

He smiles lightly at her.

"Not really, not after…" his smile fades and he does not finish, and she just waits, looking at him with a very serious and unsure expression. "I realize that you only call some place your home because of the people you share it with."

Lisbon tries to think of a reply, but does not quite find one. Jane takes a few slow steps towards her again.

"So," he continues, "_people_ are basically your home."

She shrugs.

"I see your point but… Me, for example, I live alone, and it felt great to be home when I arrived in my apartment after all that happened."

"Yes, but only for a while."

She furrowed her brow, waiting for him to explain further.

"After a while, you got dressed and you came here," he clarifies, then teases. "I wasn't expecting you so soon to be honest; I thought it would take a week or maybe even two."

Of course it works like a charm and there is that hint of outrage in her eyes as she is about to protest. It only makes him smile widely as he approaches her enough to touch her arm.

"Don't be mad," he interrupts, warmth in the smile he lets fade only to become suddenly serious again. "I thought I'd never have a home again. I thought I'd never feel at home again, anywhere. And yet, I do. With you, Lisbon. You are my home."

That is definitely unexpected, and Lisbon does not know how to respond. Jane smiles lightly, cupping her face.

"You don't have to say anything…" he assures her.

The way he is looking at her and the words he has just said have caused thoughts to become unclear in her mind. Her answer is basically a smile, which he corresponds, then the closing of her eyes, signaling that she is waiting for him to kiss her. He just smiles, stroking her face lightly and savoring that sweet, rare moment of surrender. Teresa Lisbon asking silently for a kiss from him. How could he not grant her wish? He approaches her slowly, then closes his eyes as well, letting his lips brush only slightly against hers, just touching for a moment, then gives her a slow, loving kiss, taking his other hand to the small of her back to hold her tightly.

After that sweet, slow kiss, she pulls away from him, and walks slowly towards his bed, maintaining eye contact. Standing next to it, she takes off her jacket, which she lays carefully on a chair; then, she removes her boots, placing them next to the same chair, where she also puts her jeans after she has removed them as well. Wearing only a white t-shirt and her underwear, she lies on the bed, pulling the covers on top of her. Jane, who has been watching silently with an amused smile, walks slowly towards the bed as well, turning the lights off on his way, and lies down, offering his chest for her to lie on, which she does, gladly, like she has many times during their escape.

Jane holds her tightly, after he removes the wet hair from her face, and pulls the covers up a little to cover more of her body, still cold from the bad weather outside. He places a hand on top of her icy nose, to make it warmer, and strokes her cheek with his fingertips. As she welcomes the comforting warmth of his arms around her, she remembers how she had been hurt, scared and worried the other times when he had held her like that, and how it had helped her feel all that much better; she then suddenly understands what he means. With him, she feels safe, protected, at ease. She feels at home.


End file.
